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CR MPOT FORO EL POEOEI ERG 


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The semi-circle sits down 
...the end men in their 
elaborate costumes, full of 
fun and mischief . . . the in- 
terlocutor dignified in his 


evening dress... all the 
other black-face actors with 
their banjos... . ‘“‘Gentle- 


men, be seated!’’ (Chord in 
G, accompanied by tam- 
bourine.) ‘‘Well, Mr. Bones, 
how are you this evening?” 

And right there the crowd 
out front settled down to an 
evening of uproarious en- 
tertainment varied with 
harmonies that shook them 
out of their seats. Here is 


the story of the minstrels in 


America—the story of the 
most romantic troupers in 
the whole enchanting his- 
tory of the American stage. 
The book includes songs, 
with words and music com- 
plete, jokes, the stories of 
the famous minstrels, and 
a complete minstrel show. 

Dailey Paskman, who has 
been ‘‘in and out of the the- 
atre since his cradle days,”’ 
is well known for his work 
in arranging and broadcast- 
ting minstrel shows. Sig- 
mund Spaeth, author of 
Read ’Em and Weep, is 
the outstanding authority 
on American songs, shows, 
and humor. Together they 
have made a book which, 
says Daniel Frohman, 
‘“‘should become a lasting 
monument to the most 
characteristic form of 
America’s national enter- 
tainment.”’ 


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JUL bab ible cs ec SAa hiss eee eke L eka ee 


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A PARADE OF THE OLD-TIME 


Porn TLEMEN, BE SEATED 


MINSTRELS 


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Patti Ty 


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at their 
NEW YORK ,BOSTON, «\ 
and all the principal cities ef the United States 


: with -qveut sucess —ecot x. 
Price 25 vts. net BES YON (, Colorect IP vty 


. & ” 
y ig F Pabitashnd by AgliP ORDWAY, $3.9 Wash? Si 
~ gees Bong ith, Virnan 


PY oy 


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Revolutionary Erhacs. 


Botte of Battemave . 
Faithless Fas 
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A CycLeE or MINSTRELSY, FROM CABIN AND River BortoM TO THE STAGE 


A naw Pelt He OL D-PIME 
MINS TREES 


DAILEY PASKMAN 


. 
By - 
mimeo WIND SPAETH 
With a Foreword by 
DANIEL FROHMAN 


Profusely Illustrated 
from old prints and photographs 
and with complete music 
for voice and piano 


a 
AS 


« 


se 


eee 


TNC, 


COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. 


FIRST EDITION 


DEDICATION 


To all the lovers of minstrelsy, whether in the romantic setting of the 

past or the practical possibilities of the present, to the thousands 

who cherish an old song and even an old joke in a new interpretation, 

and to the great American public to whom the authentic materials 

of their own national background are of constantly increasing interest, 
this book is faithfully dedicated. 


Mon NOWLEDGMENTS 


SO MANY people have been in some measure responsible for this 
book that it is impossible to make complete acknowledgment of the 
indebtedness of the authors. In a few cases, however, a special word 
of appreciation can and must be given. 

First and foremost comes a great debt of gratitude to Albert Davis, 
who has devoted most of his life to the collection of rare Americana, 
particularly in the field of minstrelsy, and who has generously con- 
tributed a large percentage of the pictures and music in this volume, 
besides putting at the disposal of the authors a treasure-house of old 
playbills, manuscripts, and other original data, which provided much 
information not otherwise available. 

J. P. Wilson, whose career has been closely identified with min- 
strelsy and theatricals in general, deserves hearty thanks for his 
valuable assistance in gathering authentic material, to which re- 
searches, his wide experience and intelligent approach contributed 
significantly. 

Colonel E. H. R. Green should be mentioned gratefully for his 
unfailing encouragement and interest in the revival of minstrelsy, 
and thanks are extended also to the thousands of radio fans and 
theatre patrons whose enthusiasm fired the spark that eventually 
produced a burnt-cork conflagration. 

Permission to use copyrighted material has been kindly given by 
M. Witmark & Sons, the Edward B. Marks Music Company, and 
the Oliver Ditson Company. 


Vii 


PAR NG eat OR © 


WHILE this book is announced as a work of collaboration, it is 
only fair to state that its workmanship belongs almost entirely to 
Dailey Paskman, who has been in and of the theatre since his cradle 
days, lyricist for many popular hits, including nearly all of Balieff’s 
““Chauve-Souris”’ selections, and most recently director of radio 
station WGBS in New York, and has thus developed a remarkable 
command of the various elements of the show business. The writer 
of this Preface should therefore be considered little more than an 
editor and general adviser in the preparation of this volume. 

Mr. Paskman has already won the gratitude of a huge public by 
his highly successful experiments in broadcasting actual minstrel 
shows, so that a new demand has been created for this form of enter- 
tainment, and his companies are now to be seen and heard in our 
theatres as well as on the air. 

George Cohan has said that ‘“‘no man can bea really accomplished 
actor unless he has served at least an apprenticeship as a song and 
dance man.” This statement could be applied almost literally to 
minstrelsy, for it has been the training school for most of the male 
stars of modern musical comedy and vaudeville, as well as many of 
the “straight” and character actors of the legitimate stage. Its 
importance in the history of American dramatic art can scarcely be 
overestimated, and has already attracted the attention of such 
scholars as Brander Matthews and others. 

This book cannot attempt to do more than touch a few of the high 
spots, and its most valuable contribution is unquestionably in the 


pictures and the reminiscences of actual words and music of the past. 
1X 


PREFACE 


If it arouses pleasant memories in some readers and creates anev 
interest in others, it will have served its purpose, which is neith 
scholarly nor technical; but, like the old-time minstrel putes 2 
primarily concerned with honest enjoyment. 


SIGMUND Sp i 
February, 1928. 


PePOREWORD BY DANIEL FROHMAN 


AT ONE time minstrels were a most popular institution of amuse- 
ment for all classes in this country and even placed distant England 
under their appealing spell. Many of our folk-songs came from the 
crescent of the minstrel “first part,” which influenced also the great 
Stephen Foster, whose famous minstrel songs and exquisite melodies 
are still and always will be regarded as outstanding examples of 
America’s musical literature. 

The homely and emotional songs of the negro always held sway 
in these entertainments. In addition to the rich vocalism, there were 
the comic performances in the second part of the show, depicting var- 
ied scenes of negro life and character in many capital dramatic 
sketches. 

As one who, with others of his family, was once actively interested 
in minstrelsy, from the managerial side, | take a genuine pleasure in 
contributing this little Foreword to a book which should become a 
lasting monument to the most characteristic form of America’s 


national entertainment. 
DANIEL FROHMAN. 


February 4, 1928. 


4. 


mbes beO bee ON TENTS 


Acknowledgments Vil 
Preface 1X 
A Foreword by Daniel Frohman x1 
I. INTRODUCTORY PS iy ee I 
TI. THe DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE tea Be Mo end ple Oe Ae A 
Seeeetesteoiirnt-corkers 9.05 ek a OO 

What’s in a Name? LS pee US ee or ca tae Me eR by 
Meevaca siepping stone. 6 a IQ 
MC ART ek ek we 
DUE a4 
RINT OCMNEr ee i me es 4) 25 
OSE re 
0 ee e's) 
MeeeonGs THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT Us. . . . .... 37 
Poundimthe Archivesof Memory ... . . . . 73 

Mere REINCARNATION OF JOKES . . . . . . =... 7 
DEEN RARE? 6 6.) ae ts we we) 68Q 
Stump Speakers She eit Oa © Se 28. 
OTOL ESE Ss Oe en © 

ME OEING WIODEL = 5 56.0). se ek ee ee QT 
Peeeno-=rotump speech (4. fw. ee wl «138 
Afterpiece (“Box and Cox,” Africanized). . . . . . 139 

VIII. MinstreLt PropucinGc CENTRES eae ce las) E55 
eae ISTO aor ete ee ww le! OSS 


Meeeretse ee age phides oes ek lw wt CQ 

PeecrersViatt SAT TANCISCO. Guise. as ele CO 

Se ToateMeTS ee ee ss, ke ew «(108 
X11 


CONTENTS 


Minstrelsy in Brooklyn av cen eis ers ee ee 
Minstrelsy in Chicago. (65 2) pee ee 


IX. Some or tHE Roap.SHows. 1. ae! 
“Not Coloured, but Born That Way” . .... . 


X. Famous TEAMS OF MINSTRELSY: 2. 2) 3s ee 
Mcintyre and Heath: 4:3: "28.7, fc Se 
Schoolcraft and Coes* $952 7." 5) 2 
Delehanty and Hengler 40.0 2.0. 3. 
Harrigan and: Hart eos ce ie erry 


XI. “Dixie” anp Orner Exaipirs 3 2. 5 2 a ee 


XII. CHARCOAL SKETCHES ok ae ie 
Lew Dockstader’. sy. See ee 
Dick José.) 2. Sa ee a 
“Pony” Moore <7) sc5 Gee at eo eee 
George “Honey Boy” ‘Evans <1, 0) uae 
Eddie Leonard: ;° 0.02 Nt 
Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor . . . . . «© « 


XII. EptboGue: o..5) si 9 ee ee ee bee 


Index of Minstrels and Song Titles 


moe Ot HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING PAGE 


A Cycle of Minstrelsy . . . . Frontispiece 
The Original Big Four of Rarely prank peer Dick 
Pelham, Dan Emmett, and Billy Whitlock . . 14 
The Virginia Minstrels (‘Big Four’’)—As They goed to an 
Artist of Their Day . . 18 
Weber and Fields as Boy Brodies aa Willie Prati Bneree 
Collier as Black Friars . . 22 


The Duprez and Green Troupe, re Lee ae West Mire 
strels, and a Refined Ballyhoo for a Road-show, the Minstrel 


eauee. Hehe, Ce acy a 
Dan Bryant, Billy Eeeends Avi Meise Seen ee payee 
An Old Minstrel Circle—Simmons and Slocum’s RIES 82 
Dancers and Instrumentalists, White’s Serenaders . . 86 
The Bryant Brothers, Dan and Jerry, and the Youthful F A 

Stone with His Father and Brother. . . Beeb stants OO 
McIntyre and Heath, and Delehanty and Ceneiee i Paling 110 
David Belasco as “‘Uncle Tom,” George Coes, and Billy Rice 134 
MM rictyeriimsel’ 9. ke ee ee «G2 
Dan Bryant and Cool Burgess... Reems SSO 
The Song That Made Harrigan and Hart fresh rn, aha 158 
Dan Emmett at the Time He Wrote “Dixie” and in His ele 

mg-Days .. . 162 
Billy Emerson, pene a ie Bheraraohee Pad ae “Big 

Sunflower’ Public . . ere. | YG2 
Barney Fagan, W. H. Hooley, ad ident Nose eee... 106 
Memieond Hitchcock and AlG. Field... . . =. =. =. 170 


XV 


LIST OF HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS 


George Primrose and Billy West . . . fee whi 
“Colonel Jack” Haverly, Charles ‘Frohman, and Daniel 
Frohman . . i : : 


Harrigan and Hart, ‘McIntyre aril Aen: and Montgomery 

and Stones). sea : Ne aes ‘2 a 
Bert Williams, “Honey Bay ” Evans, and Lew Dockstadert ie 
Eddie Cantor and Al Jolson . . . ee ae 
The Last Stage in the Evolution of Wonserelsy eee 


* 


a: 


Poe rele A TELE USTRATLONS 


REM ITSUCISY a 3 
T. D. Rice, the Original “‘ Jim Crow” PoP UNI) eR tele me Wot ea Fw 12 
DIC ere ek le ee ee 8 
Rieiampo .. . } Ce ae ee ena ys 
The Minstrel pci in Full he TO are MeO ra et: Deemer ee f 
Mme sO rly os Uk. le le 86 
The Great Ricardo . . Me Ane pt et ese te OA 
Christy’s Bones and Banjo Melodist es Oe Leta era relat 52 
6 
ke a 57 
ee 6 
ake oy 7 | 
ere. 8 ae ye ©6180 
Delehanty and Hengler. . . ud Ie. eer Vac eaes Ac eae os bey 
The Original Title-Page of “ shire cris eee mea rine 2,1 POO 
eel fOr y300. . . . . . . .. « . 189 
mmeteiarivanuscript of ‘Dixie’. . . . . . . . 190 
CO ew «2354 


This list does not include many illustrations 
and decorations that appear without captions 
throughout the text. 


XVii 


INTRODUCTORY 


moet LEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


A Parade of the Old-time Minstrels 
I. INTRODUCTORY 


IT 1s typical of our own United States that the most distinctive 
form of native entertainment should bear a name charged with all 
the romance and glamour of medizval minstrelsy. We have applied 
the name of “ballad” to every sentimental song, regardless of its 
narrative qualities. We revel in a “‘melodrama”’ which is far removed 
from the classic union of spoken words and musical accompaniment, 
as practised in ancient Greece. Even “‘burlesque” (generally pro- 
nounced “‘burly-cue’’) no longer suggests actual parody or dramatic 
caricature, but rather the stabilization of the feminine leg, and a 
machine-gun fire of obvious double entendre. 

Of all these characteristic institutions of the American theatre, 
minstrelsy alone has done credit to its name. It is a long way, perhaps, 
from the “minstrel” of the Middle Ages to the burnt-cork circle, 
centring in the pompous Interlocutor, and flanked by Bones and 
Tambo. Yet both the music and the quips produced by the traditional 
minstrel show have something in common with the extemporaneous 
efforts of their colourful ancestors. 


“Gaily the troubadour touched his guitar, 
As he was journeying home from the war.” 


The old song sums up the spirit of minstrelsy for all time in those 


much-quoted lines. The minstrel has always been a fighter as well as 
I 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


an entertainer, first in the service of an individual master and later 
in the service of the public at large. Originally, he was literally 
a “minister” or servant, and it was probably the old law of human 
nature, that ‘‘no man is a hero to his own valet,” that turned the 
ministering menial into a jaunty and indispensable jester. 

As early as the Fourteenth Century, minstrelsy was a recognized 
profession in all the civilized countries of Europe. Its members were 
known variously as troubadours, jongleurs (or jugglers), bards, and 
glee men, in addition to the generic term “minstrel,” and their spirit 
and habits were shared to some extent by the Minnesingers of Ger- 
many and even the more stodgy, formula-worshipping Meister- 
singers. 

In those days, a minstrel had to develop his technique with a sword 
as well as a lute. His dance steps were likely to carry him literally 
among the lancers, with the smiles of court ladies for favours. The 
serenader of those days doubled in steel armour as well as brass, and 
his make-up was quite as likely to be a visored helmet as a mask of 
fashion or comedy. A ‘‘doleful ballad to his mistress’ left eyebrow” 
might alternate at a moment’s notice with a vengeful back-stroke at 
his enemy’s left ear. 

Minstrelsy in the Fourteenth Century, as in the Nineteenth, was 
no child’s play, but a hardy man’s game, full of danger and adventure. 
The gallant vocalist in doublet and hose, with a rapier on his left 
hip and a lute slung under the right shoulder, equally ready for a 
fight or a frolic, typified a combination of romance and daredeviltry 
which produced its modern descendants in the pioneering blackbirds 
of the minstrel road shows, equally gallant in their brave display of 
finery, and struggling against enemies and adversities quite as definite 
as those of the Middle Ages. ; 

The old-time minstrel was both poet and press agent, and this 
dual capacity has also been preserved to some extent by tradition. He 


was maintained in comparative luxury by his noble patron, for the 
2 


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“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


express purpose of singing that patron’s praises, as well as joining 
in his practical defense when the occasion arose. 

Cyrano de Bergerac, who, with complete sang-froid, could compose 
a ballad while neatly puncturing the person of his adversary, is the 
prototype of the fighting poet, and there were many like him before 
and after. 

Francois Villon damned the King and sang his praises in the 
same breath. The spirit of his song and the keenness of his blade won 
him the heart of a Princess. How could she help loving such a manP 

King David was as handy with a harp as witha sling shot, and his 
music soothed the savage breast of Saul as effectively as his little 
pebble silenced the braggadocio of the giant Goliath. 

The minstrel of Charlemagne rode into the fray juggling a huge 
battle-ax and singing the original Chanson de Roland. 

Blondin, a gifted harpist, searched for his musical master, Richard 
of the Lion Heart, all over southern Europe, and finally discovered 
him in an Austrian dungeon, to the speedy restoration of a royal and 
loyal harmony. 

The Scottish border had its famous minstrels, as Wales had its 
bards, and the harps of Ireland sounded not only “through Tara’s 
Halls,” but in so many other places that serious efforts were once 
made to limit by law the number of their professional and amateur 
exponents. 

It is the demon of self-expression that has goaded on these min- 
strels, old and new, with perhaps the need of a meal-ticket adding its 
still, small voice in the background. This eternal combination of the 
temperamental and the practical has always urged men, and will 
always urge them, to travel through the world singing their songs, 
loving their ladies, and fighting their battles. There is little of logic, 
reason, or calculation in their lives. They are occupied with mirth, 
melody, poetry, and their public knows it. 

Stranger, give us a song! If it be a jolly one, we shall laugh with 

4 


INTRODUCTORY 


you! If it be a sad one, we shall cry with you! If it be a song of wine, 
we shall drink with you, and if it be a ballad of a fair and false one, 
we shall sympathize with you. But if you sing it out of tune or time, 
we shall damn you to uttermost perdition! 

Times and styles may change, but nature persists in reproducing 
the thoughts, the aspirations, and the accomplishments of mankind. 
So, as the circus clown shouts his familiar ‘Here we are again!”’ the 
Interlocutor of minstrelsy echoes the blander suggestion, “‘Gentlemen, 
be seated!” each reminding an endless audience of a showmanship 
built upon universal instincts, and still essentially the same. 

The ebullient spirit of the ancient minstrel is still with us, and his 
modern representative has fought his battles and conquered his 
enemies just as surely as did his romantic ancestors. But these enemies 
were not feudal barons and their retainers. Rather were they the 
subtler but none the less definite ogres of circumstance, prejudice, 
financial and physical handicaps. 

The “‘show business” is well acquainted with those courageous 
and optimistic troupes that travelled westward with no more sub- 
stantial backing than a promise to pay if the 
box-office permitted, storming the frontier 
fortresses on a tenuous shoe string, with no 
weapons beyond a slender supply of “‘stock 
paper.’ Even the manager of such an outfit 
could make himself believe the gilded talk 
that has always been the vocabulary of the 
troubadour. The urge of self-expression was 
upon them all. The ignis fatuus of success 
danced before their eyes, and in too many 
cases it eluded their grasp. 

It is reported that, in a single season, that , 
of 1873-1874, eighteen out of thirty-nine min- 
strel companies went broke on the road, and 

5 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


their members, sans wardrobe or other paraphernalia, wearily counted 
the railroad ties on their pedestrian way home. 

An advance agent; waiting in New York for a troupe that was 
working its way down the Hudson one cold December, finally wired 
the manager, asking when he expected to arrive. The answer came 
back, collect, “On the next cake of ice.”’ 

There is another traditional story in theshow business, dating back 
to the 1869 outfit of ‘‘Sharpley’s Ironclads,’”’ concerning the German 
musician who, finding himself the only one not paid off, delivered 
the ultimatum, “I don’t vash up till I get me some money!”—a 
remark which has been quoted a thousand times since. 

Those were the days when the careful housewife would call to her 
neighbour, “Better get your clothes offen the line! Show folks in 
town!” The trouper’s integrity was doubted even when his ability was 
appreciated. 

It is a far cry from the primitive period of the “ Big Four” (headed 
by Dan Emmett himself of “Dixie” fame) to the “Forty, Count 
‘em! Forty!” of the closing years of the past century. Many a long- 
drawn “whoop” and lusty “‘holler”’ rent 
the air between the somnolent, whistle- 
tooting days of the ’40’s and the raucous, 
trombone-blaring era of the ’9o0’s. In that 
time the minstrel business developed 
from a four-man organization, working in 
a limited territory, to a series of great 
companies, well trained and gorgeously 
costumed, touring the country from coast 
to coast. 

The climax of American minstrelsy 
lies well within the memory of the present 
generation. Less than thirty years ago 


this unique form of native art was at its 
6 


INTRODUCTORY 


height. The acorn planted by Dan Emmett and his companions had 
produced a mighty oak, rough though its bark may have been. 

To-day, however, the minstrel show is chiefly an amateur pursuit, 
although the radio has recently revived interest in its technique 
to such an extent that the minstrels of the microphone are actually 
reappearing on the professional stage with marked success. 

These pages, however, are set down chiefly in the spirit of reminis- 
cence, with practical suggestions here and there of how contemporary 
performers may adapt the traditional material of their predecessors 
for their own amusement and that of their hearers. 

This ‘‘Parade of the Old-Time Minstrels”’ is by no means attended 
with ease and luxury. It may lead us into out-of-the-way places, full 
of discomfort and hardship. Occasionally, we may get stuck in the 
mud or held up for the price of a lodging. 

But it will be an interesting adventure, none the less, with more 
than its share of romance and an optimistic coating of mirth and 
melody. “All aboard!” then, and let the human comedy begin! 


HE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


I]. THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


{Tt HAS been argued that the first part ever played on the stage 
in “‘black-face” was Shakespeare’s ‘“‘sooty devil’? Othello, in 1610. 
But as Othello was a Moor, and therefore of Arabian features, his 
character can hardly be considered in the Negro tradition. 

A Boston advertisement, dated December 30, 1799, and thus 
barely catching the Eighteenth Century, states that in a performance 
of “Orinoko, or the Royal Slave,” a Mr. Grawpner sang Negro songs 
in character make-up. The mysterious Grawpner, then, should be 
credited with being the first minstrel, in the American sense. 


THE FIRST BURNT-CORKERS 


Other early stage singers, however, seem to have blackened 
their faces for no particular reason, unless it was to disguise their 
identity. One of them was known as “Pot Pie’ Herbert and his songs 
evidently had a practical use in helping to sell his pies. Incidentally, 
that great actor, Edwin Forest, is said to have given a serious and 
lifelike characterization in black-face when he played Cuff in a 
piece called ‘‘Tailor in Distress.”” But Thomas D. Rice, known affec- 
tionately in the profession as ‘‘Daddy”’ Rice, seems to deserve the 
credit of being the first to make a national or “‘race illustration”’ of the 
Negro character. He had heard an old darky in Cincinnati sing an 
authentic Negro ditty, with a shuffling accompaniment of the feet: 


“Weel about and turn about and do j1s’ so, 


Eb’ry time I weel about I jump Jim Crow.” 
II 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


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a. Do Rice 
THE ORIGINAL “Jim Crow” 


Soi 43] 


This was the origin of the famous Jim 
Crow song, and perhaps of the title it- 
self, commonly applied to the negro 
race, and still used in the South for 
the car space allotted to the coloured 
people. 

Rice worked out a song with appro- 
priate business, from the hint given him 
by the shuffling old darky, and he gave 
his new act its first try-out in Pitts- 
burgh. His final inspiration came from 
the grotesque appearance of an actual 
negro who hung around the theatre, 
and Rice finally persuaded him to lend 
his entire outfit for the occasion. Since 
the lender of the costume had no other, 


he was forced to wait in shivering dishabille, out in the alley, while 


the act went on. 


The success of the song was so great that Rice had to respond 
to insistent encores. Finally, the forgotten negro crept in through 
the stage door, and the song came to an abrupt end with his audible 
whisper from the wings, ‘‘Ah wants mah clo’es.” 

Here is the Jim Crow song as Daddy Rice sang it: 


JIM CROW 


THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


Gli, Man. GRO 5 sa 
LE 0 2 1 ee hee BSC ey 
Loe’ Tt a PSP 6 nee vem Ye 2 eee 
| 4 oS 2 ee 0 oe Ce Ae ¥ ees 


ian 4 0 253 228. Ges Wie (Ses 
CS by SSS Gs § SS Nae Oo eee 
Bi ABS Whee eae 
a 


z. I went down to de river, 
I didn’t mean to stay; 
But dere I see so many gals, 
I couldn’t get away. [Chorus] 


3. And arter | been dere awhile, 
I t’ought I push my boat; 
But I tumbled in de river, 
An’ I find myself afloat. [Chorus] 
13 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


4. I git upon a flatboat, 
I cotch de Uncle Sam; 
Den I went to see de place where 
Dey killed de Packenham. [Chorus] 


5. And den I go to Orleans, 
An’ feel so full of fight; 
Dey put me in de Calaboose, . 
An’ keep me dere all night. [Chorus] 


6. When I got out I hit a man, 
His name I now forgot; 
But dere was not’ing left of him 
’Cept a little grease spot. [Chorus] 


7. Anoder day I hit a man, 
De man was mighty fat 
I hit so hard I knocked him in 
To an old cockt hat. [Chorus] 


8. I whipt my weight in wildcats, 
I eat an alligator; 
I drunk de Missessippy up! 
Oh, I’m de very creature. [Chorus] 


9. I sit upon a hornet’s nest, 
I dance upon my head; 
I tie a wiper round my neck 
An’ den I go to bed. [Chorus] 


10. I kneel to de buzzard, 
An’ I bow to the crow; 
An eb’ry time I weel about, 
I jump jis’ so. [Chorus] 
14 


aunts: 
ORIGINAL 
BIG 
FOUR 
OF 
MINSTRELSY 


FRANK BROWER DICK PELHAM 


According to these ancient pictures, the “Virginia Minstrels” might have sold 

patent medicines or cough drops with as much success as they gained behind the 

foot-lights with banjo, fiddle, bones, and tambourine. Their portraits present a 
neat exposition of the decline and fall of whiskers. 


UNTOUCHED 
Beyae kL is 
DISGUISING 
INFLOENCE 
OF 
BURNT CORK 


DAN EMMETT BILLY WHITLOCK 


THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


By the way, the first appearance of Joseph Jefferson on any stage 
was in black-face, as a partner of Daddy Rice, at the Bowery Theatre, 
Washington, D. C., in 1832. Jefferson, a tiny boy at the time, was 
carried on by Rice in a valise, emerging as a miniature “Jim Crow” 
and joining Rice in the song and dance. 

Other negro songs followed immediately after the success of 
Rice’s experiment. Z7p Coon (also known as Turkey in the Straw) 
became popular, and there were also Clar de Kitchen, Lucy Long, 
Such a Gettin’ Up Stairs, Gumbo Chaff, Sittin’ on a Rail, etc. But while 
the list of black-face performers grew rapidly, it was not until 1843 
that anything like a real minstrel troupe existed. 

This was the year of the organization of the immortal “Big 
Four,’ Dan Emmett, Frank Brower, Dick Pelham, and Billy Whit- 
lock. Gaze upon their faces with reverence, for they were the real 
parents of American minstrelsy. 

They met in a New York boarding house and worked out the 
idea of a four-man show. Whitlock claims to have been its originator, 
so why not give him the credit? 

They called themselves the Virginia Minstrels and gave a benefit 
performance for Dick Pelham, which was followed by a real opening 
at the Bowery Amphitheatre, February 6, 1843. Their success was 
immediate and permanent. After delighting American audiences for 
three months, the Virginians sailed for England and monopolized the 
attention of London for another six weeks. The black-face minstrel 
had undoubtedly arrived. 

Frank Dumont hasclaimed that performers in black-faceappeared 
on a Philadelphia stage prior to 1843, but the “Big Four”’ seems to 
have been the first actual troupe to give a regular series of shows and 
to use the name of “‘minstrels.”’ 

The second troupe to be formed was known as the Kentucky 
Minstrels, and this group consisted of five men. After them came the 
Ring and Parker minstrels, followed by the “Congo Melodists,” who 

15 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


later changed their name to Buckley’s New Orleans Serenaders. They 
first appeared at the Tremont Theatre in Boston, but soon came to 
New York. Among other achievements they are credited with the 
first burlesque of grand opera, still a popular sport. 

The next great name to appear in the line of minstrelsy was that 
of Edwin P. Christy, who appeared in Albany as early as 1844, al- 
though the organization known as the Christy Minstrels came some- 
what later. At first there were four men, but in time two more were 
added, named Dickinson and Backus. Their New York début was 
made at Palma’s Opera House. 

The Christy troupe went to England in the ’50’s and became so 
popular that their name was eventually applied generically to all 
Negro impersonators. The Christys also enjoyed the honour of having 
their name on one of the widely circulated “‘songsters”’ or pocket song 
books of the day. 

Another company to win the hearts of London was that of the 
“Ethiopian Serenaders,” consisting of F. Germon, G. Harrington, 
M. Stanwood, G. Pelham, and W. White. Their success was so great 
that they had to give morning as well as afternoon and evening shows, 
thus starting the ‘‘three-a-day” practice. They also appeared before 
Queen Victoria at Arundel Castle, by special command, and each 
member of the troupe was presented with a ring bearing the royal 
crest. 

In a Philadelphia company known as the Virginia Serenaders 
there first appears the name of Cool White, later a very prominent 
minstrel. ‘‘White’s Serenaders,’’ headed by Cool and his brother, 
came to life in 1846, and this troupe included Master Juba, a famous 
coloured dancer. It is not certain whether he derived his name from 
the Negro “Juba Dance”’ or vice versa. 

Then there were the ‘‘Harmoniums,” organized in Boston, and 
the ‘“‘Sable Harmonizers,’ whose roster included six names, 
Plumer, Archer, J. Farrell, W. Rorke, Nelson Kneass, and Murphy. 

16 


THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


Within the next ten years, minstrel companies sprang up all over the 
country, and the American public first saw such giants of burnt cork as 
Dan and Jerry Bryant, Mestayer, Luke West, Kunkle, Sandford, 
Eph Horn, George Christy, and George Wood. 

Campbell’s Minstrels used the adjective “‘original,’’ which soon 
became general, and in 1847 this troupe trod the boards at Barnum’s 
American Museum. P. T. Barnum himself was capable of presenting 
a song and dance, and there is a record of his blacking up in place of 
an incapacitated minstrel and presenting Such a Gettin’ Up Stairs and 
other favourites. 


WHAT'S IN A NAMEP 


The impresarios of minstrelsy seem to have racked their brains 
for distinctive and descriptive names for their organizations. The 
“Sable Brothers” sounded logical enough, as did the optimistic 
“Nightingale Serenaders.”’ But there were also ‘‘Ordway’s Eolians”’ 
and the “‘Washington Utopians.” Most of these companies also digni- 
fied themselves with the title of ‘‘opera troupe,”’ and in some cases the 
word “empire” was inserted somewhere, to add to an already implied 
magnificence. 

This was only the beginning. Duprez and Benedict called their 
aggregation the ‘‘New Gigantic Minstrels,” and M. B. Leavitt in- 
vented the word ‘‘Gigantean.” Primrose and West headed the 
“Mammoth Minstrels,” and the same term was used by Barlow and 
Wilson. Richards and Pringle were content with a modest ‘“‘ Famous 
Georgia Minstrels,” but Carncross insisted that his outfit was the 
“Star Troupe of the World.” 

Hi Henry advertised the ‘‘Superb Operatic Minstrels,” while 
Barlow Brothers used both ‘‘Mammoth” and “ Magnificent” in their 
posters. McNish, Johnson, and Slavin emphasized the word “Re- 
fined,” which may have become necessary by that time. Primrose 
and West eventually compromised on BIG, but Colonel Jack Haverly 

17 


>? 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


went into prehistoric biology again to unearth the soul-satisfying 
term ‘‘ Mastodon.” It was the big bass drum of this troupe that first 
carried the inscription, ‘Forty, Count "Em! Forty!” 

The Big Four had increased tenfold, and the circle of twoscore 
singers became.a tradition for the full-sized minstrel show. 

On the way to this climax there had been many experiments, with 
a full share of incongruities and absurdities. But minstrelsy survived 
them all. 

The first “‘ yodeller” among the minstrels was Tom Christian, who 
made his début in Chicago in 1847. His falsetto tones thrilled the 
audiences of that city for seven years, and the Tyrolean “broken 
reed’’ eventually became a regular minstrel feature. It has now been 
relegated to the college campus and canoedling parties. 

There wasa black-face Dutchman as far back as 1858 in the person 
of Dave Wambold, of the minstrel team of Birch, Wambold and 
Backus. He is said to have possessed a really beautiful voice, which 
makes the anachronism of his Afro-Teutonic achievement all the more 
difficult to explain. 

The great Billy Emerson, in 1868, showed an even stranger disre- 
gard of the fitness of things, when he did “The Old Clothes Man” 
in Hebrew dialect, without removing the burnt cork 

Jerry Cohan, on the other hand (father of the great and only 
George), introduced Irish brogue, Irish songs, and Irish jokes into 
the black circle. Some of his specialties were The Dublin Dancing 
Master, The Dancing Professor, and Paddy Miles, the Iris’ Boy. The 
elder Cohan was in minstrelsy as early as 1867, and became a famous 
end man and comedian long before he went into vaudeville as the head 
of the “‘Four Cohans.”’ 

(When actors speak of anachronisms, however, they usually find 
their climax in Corse Peyton’s putting on a song and dance to finish 
an act of ‘‘Camille.’’) 

Ordway’s Minstrels, credited with originating the street parade 

18 


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MAMONd MNVU MOOTLIHM ATIIA LLaWWa NVC WVH1dd OIG 


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a 
, 
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tl Fe DEVELOPMENT OF BLACK-FACE 


about 1850, were also the first to put.on a show in white-face, a pre- 
cedent which has always been distrusted by true followers of min- 
strelsy. The white wigs, elaborate costumes, and gorgeous draperies 
were also looked upon with misgivings, some claiming that such a 
troupe looked more like a female burlesque company than a minstrel 
show. 

It is worth noting, however, that many a modern black-face artist 
has eventually removed the familiar make-up and proved equally 
successful without the dusky disguise. Outstanding examples are 
Frank Tinney, Eddie Cantor (who originated the impersonation of 
the sophisticated “‘city coon,” as represented by  Octavus Roy 
Cohen’s Florian Slappey), and most recently Al Jolson, by way of the 
movies. | 

MINSTRELSY AS A STEPPING STONE 

But American minstrelsy remains essentially a black-face proposi- 
tion, and this book intends to view it exclusively from the darker 
side. In passing, it may be worth while to mention a few more celeb- 
rities of the stage who took their turn, at some time, in the semicircle 
of the traditional minstrel show. Joseph Jefferson, Edwin Forest, and 
P. T. Barnum have already been mentioned, although the first named 
belongs in the realm of ‘‘legitimate black-face” rather than in min- 
strelsy. Edwin Booth did a turn in black-face before he was known as a 
tragedian, and Patrick S. Gilmore, the great bandmaster, started as a 
minstrel. 

David Belasco was never an actual minstrel, but it is an un- 
questioned fact that he played “Uncle Tom” at Shiel’s Opera House, 
San Francisco, in 1873. 

Denman Thompson of “‘The Old Homestead” was a successful end 
man before he became a dramatic star. Neil Burgess had his own 
minstrel show before he created Aunt Abigail in the “‘County Fair.” 
Similarly, Joseph Murphy preceded his Irish plays, “Kerry Gow,” 
“The Shaugran,” etc., with an apprenticeship in minstrelsy. 

19 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


J. K. “Fritz” Emmett, famous as a Dutch comedian, also started 
under the blanket of burnt cork, as did Barney Williams, originally 
known as “Dandy Jim from Caroline,” and later a specialist in Irish 
melody. 

Fred Stone first teamed with Dave Montgomery in Haverly’s 
Minstrels. That was in 1895 in New Orleans. Nat Goodwin also was 
with Haverly as early as 1876. Joseph Cawthorne and Raymond 
Hitchcock were both originally minstrel men, and the latter picked 
up his old habits again when he went in as a pinch-hitter for ‘‘Honey 
Boy” Evans in the most elaborate of the modern troupes. 

Chauncey Olcott was a favourite with the Carncross Minstrels, 
Primrose and West, and other companies, before he went in exclusively 
for Irish balladry; and Andrew Mack, most recently of ‘‘Abie’s Irish 
Rose,” and formerly a vaudeville star, dedicated his early stage 
career to black-face. Otis Skinner’s first part on the stage was in 
black-face, in a piece called ‘‘Marked for Life.” 

Weber and Fields did a burnt-cork act before they discovered 
the advantages of German dialect. Carroll Johnson was known as the 
“Beau Brummel” of minstrelsy before he starred in ‘““The Gossoon” 
and “The Irish Statesman,” and later returned to his first love, playing 
at Dumont’s in Philadelphia and with Lew Dockstader in New York. 

George Fuller Golden, monologuist, and Billy Clifford, famous for 
his “‘chappie” impersonations, once teamed up in black-face. John 
Gorman, Harry Kernell, and many other names might be mentioned. 

Willie Collier and De Wolf Hopper reversed the rule and took 
their turn at minstrelsy in a Lambs’ show long after they had made 
their reputations with undisguised physiognomies.* 

The minstrel show has been a training school as well as a recog- 
nized art form. 


1Mr. Collier now adds the information that his theatrical career actually began in minstrelsy also, but 
his réle was that of selling song books for Haverly’s Coloured Minstrels, at Niblo’s Garden, New York. 
Later he became call-boy at Daly’s Theatre and did his first real acting in Haverly’s Juvenile Pinafore 
Company. 


20 


III. THE FIRST PART 


SAD14-] YIV]GE SD AAITIOT) YALSNG ANV FITIIAY saisipold fog sv SQ1Sa1J GNV Yada 


ma 


Heekrie BIRS T-PARL 


It 1s hard to say just how soon the Minstrel Show crystallized 
into its accepted form (of which a practical outline will be found later 
in this volume). But it is certain that the first part of the programme, 
with the intermediate “‘olio,” became a set tradition quite early. The 
second part remained a free fantasy, consisting of individual special- 
ties, sketches, and often elaborate parodies of current plays, similar in 
many respects to the revues of later date. But the “First Part” had 
a definite technique, to which all minstrel men were unswervingly 
loyal, and which has been consistently observed right up to the present 
day. 

Essentially this part represents a running dialogue between the 
middle man, or “Interlocutor” (accented on the third syllable), and 
the two end men, known generally as ‘‘ Bones”’ and ‘‘Tambo”’ because 
of the instruments which they played. This dialogue was interrupted 
at regular intervals by set songs, ponderously and portentously 
announced by the Interlocutor, with the whole company frequently 
joining in the chorus. In fact, the whole machinery of jokes and 
pompous persiflage existed chiefly for the sake of introducing these 
set numbers, just as a musical comedy has its dialogue built around 
a definite vocal programme. The songs were by no means all humor- 
ous, and in general it was a rule that the worst jokes should precede 
the best and most serious lyric efforts. At the end of the first part, 
there was a “‘walk-around”’ in which the entire troupe joined. The 
“olio” (played “‘in one’’) would then occupy the interval while the 
stage was set for the second part of the show. (The term “‘olio” has 
also been loosely applied to the entire first part.) 

23 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


THE PARADE 


The actual parade of the old-time minstrels was the outgrowth 
of circus habits. It was soon realized that such advance publicity had 
a practical value, and long before the troupes grew to the size of 
“Forty, Count ’Em! Forty!” a parade from the railroad station to the 
local hotel was an established ritual. 

The shrill pipe of a small boy, ‘Hey, fellers! Minstrels comin’!” 
was a better advertisement than a three-sheet poster. A group of 
youngsters was usually at the “depot” to see the 11:40 come 
in with its precious cargo. Later, most of the town girls managed 
to be somewhere along Main Street to see the parade go by, with 
much giggling and nudging of each other and an occasional exchange 
of bold glances with the gallant paraders. 

The Silver Cornet Band always headed the parade, and the min- 
strels themselves marched four abreast if the company were suffi- 
ciently large, otherwise by twos, like the animals entering the Ark. Each 
man wore a long-tailed Newmarket coat of startling pattern, with 
lapels of red silk, and on each head was 
perched a shiny “‘plug”’ hat. In front of 
the band marched the drum major, 
wearing a short red coat liberally en- 
crusted with gold braid, and crowned by 
a towering shako of imitation bearskin. 
He juggled his brass-knobbed baton 
continuously, throwing it in the air and 
catching it in the manner of his ances- 
tor of the Chanson de Roland. 

The town boys lengthen their stride 
to keep up with the parade as it marches 
through Main Street, their faces spark- 
ling with excitement, for to every small 

24 


DHE PIRST PART 


boy the minstrel is a hero. At the 
Mansion House the parade comes 
to a halt. The band lines up at the 
door for a valedictory gallop or 
quickstep, and then follows the 
troupe in to dinner. The crowd of 
boys and girls, with a sprinkling of 
adults, disperses gradually, and 
the afternoon is spent in finding 
ways and means of attending the 
evening performance. (Usually the 
most effective method was the 
straightforward, ‘‘Gimme a quar- 
ter, Pa, to see the minstrels?’ But 
times have changed!) | 

We are now at the Opera House, and it is nearly 8:15. The band 
has been tuning up in the basement. The minstrels have completed the 
process of blacking up, to the usual accompaniment of jokes and per- 
sonalities. Out in the auditorium the audience is waiting expectantly. 

The call-boy back stage makes his rounds with an “‘All up for the 
first part!’ The band takes its place on a raised platform in the rear 
of the stage, while the minstrels stand in front of their allotted chairs 
in the semicircle. 

The stage manager takes a quick look around to make sure that 
every man is in his place, rings a bell for the flyman, and up goes the cur- 
tain. There is a burst of applause from the audience. As it subsides, the 
man in the exact centre of the circle raises his voice in sonorous tones: 

““Gentlemen, be seated!”’ 


THE INTERLOCUTOR 


The man who delivers this dignified pronunciamento, usually 
followed by ‘‘We will now commence the performance with the 
25 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


overture,” is the one “straight performer” of the minstrel show. 
Tradition has given him the fittingly ponderous name of ‘‘ Mr. Inter- 
locutor,’’ and he is the accepted master of ceremonies. 

There is no suggestion of comedy in the full-dress suit and expansive 
shirt front of his costume. Sometimes he plays in white-face, contrast- 
ing with the black clowns on both sides of him, and his hair is usually 
his own, not the conventional kinky wig fitting closely to the head, or 
the elaborate comedy coiffure of Bones or Tambo. 

The speaking voice of the Interlocutor must be resonant and 
suggestive of untold magnificence. Occasionally, he may render a 
ballad, and thus reveal that he is by nature a basso. But mostly his is a 
speaking part. 

He is the father of all the foils in vaudeville, those well-dressed, 
gentlemanly fellows of unimpeachable manners, who speak such 
painfully correct English and are such easy prey for the low buffoonery 
of their companions. It seems absurd that so obviously intelligent a 
person could be so consistently outwitted in verbal exchanges, but 
it is one of the laws of human drama that this should be so. 

The crowd likes nothing better than to see a half-wit get the better 
of a pompous intellectual. It restores confidence, as it were. And so 
the Interlocutor is the eternal buffer for the jocosities of his end men, 
the necessary “feeder” to their running stream of ribald clowning. 

This give-and-take between the centre and ends of the semicircle 
has in it the necessary element of contrast, which brings the minstrel 
show almost to the level of actual drama. It is assumed that the 
Interlocutor will always get the worst of the exchanges. Yet he must 
never lose his dignity. He must continue patiently to correct the 
atrocious grammar and the impossible mispronunciations of the ignor- 
ant but immensely entertaining oafs, and he must be consistent in his 
apparent misapprehension of the most obvious jokes, his utter 
inability to answer the simplest of conundrums. 

Whenever an end man scores a point, he is joined in boisterous 

210 


The com plete minstrel 


iS 


RTS 209 eva Noh gy a TOTTI Te 


‘ { MM 1 N s a R E L 2S. im circle, with comedians in 
Pia J y ; 


the foreground, as shown 
in an old poster of the 
highly successful Duprez 
and Green troupe. 


<€- 


The Primrose and West 
Minstrels all ready to 
knock ’em dead at the local 
opry house. The two stars 
of the show are sitting at 
the (reader's) left end of 


the front row. > 


“Refined bally-hoo 


fora road show. The 
Minstrel Parade, 
flanked by its staunch- 
est admirers, the small 
boys of the town, with 
the theatre itself in the 
background. 


Some 


and off as they pleased. The dialogue of the 


THE FIRST PART 


laughter by his balancing colleague at the opposite end, and often by 
the entire troupe. This ancient device for creating immediate merri- 
ment seems also to have been borrowed from the circus, for there 
too it is the tradition that the clown shall always get the better of the 
ringmaster and laugh loud and long over his discomfiture. 

It may be argued that the custom goes 
even further back in history, for it has been 
pointed out (by no less an authority than 
Brander Matthews) that in Sixteenth Century 
Paris a quack doctor was always accompanied 
by a jack-pudding, who propounded questions 
which the doctor answered in learned terms, 
whereupon the jack-pudding would proffer his 
own ribald explanations and thus raise a laugh 
from the crowd. Catch questions were known 
in Elizabethan England as “‘selling a bargain,” 
and Shakespeare made frequent use of such 
comedy, often allowing his clowns to run on 


two Dromios in “The Comedy of Errors” is similar in substance to 
the traditional gagging of minstrelsy’s end men. 

Every type of farce must have its “stalking horse,” the ‘‘fall 
guy’ of modern slang, and this is the rdle of the minstrel Interlocutor. 
He is an impossibly correct individual, and his introductions of set 
numbers are couched in the most grandiloquent and florid language. 
No minstrel show could get along without him. 


THE END MEN 


If the Interlocutor is the keystone of the minstrel arch, the end 
men are the flying buttresses. (Or, to make a typical minstrel pun, he 
is the butt, etc.) 

The Interlocutor’s ‘‘Good-evening, Mr. Bones” is enough to 

27 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


bring the whole audience to the edges of their seats, for they know that 
this simple greeting will inevitably lead to some side-splitting response 
from the rat-tat-tat comedian. 

He derives his name from the rhythmic noise producer that he 
manipulates. A “‘set of bones” was originally an actual pair of bones, 
used in the manner of castanets. The 
cannibals of Africa probably originated 
the idea when they wanted a little music 
after having feasted thoroughly upon 
their enemies. 

The rattling of bones is represented 
by the xylophone in Saint-Saéns’s 
‘“‘Danse Macabre,” and Shakespeare, in 
““A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” gives 
Nick Bottom the line, “I have a reason- 
able good ear in music, let us have the 
tongs and the bones.” 

It was in 1841 that the bones were 
introduced into minstrelsy, and Frank 
Brower, of the original “‘ Big Four,” was 
the introducer. He used the actual ribs of a horse, sawed to a length 
of twelve inches, and they provided a splendid rhythmic “kick.” Many 
a boy of the past century tried to imitate Brower’s invention, saving 
the bones from the family roast beef, drying and scraping them care- 
fully, and then going to infinite pains to produce new patterns of 
rhythm with their clicking codperation. 

Later, the real bones of the minstrel show were replaced by sticks 
of ebony or some other hard material, and the clever end man would 
toss them in the air and catch them between his fingers, much as 
his legitimate descendant, the jazz drummer, now juggles his sticks 
and other paraphernalia of noise. There were both art and science 
in playing the bones of early minstrelsy. © 

28 


Mr. Bones 


THE SELES TE PART 


And what a ready wit Mr. Bones possessed, to be sure! How infi- 
nitely superior his homely phraseology to the studied correctness of 
Mr. Interlocutor! When the latter asked his conventional, “‘ Well, Mr. 
Bones, how do you feel this evening?” the reply might be, ‘‘I feel just 
like a stovepipe.”’ You quivered with the anticipation of mirth, as poor, 
blind Mr. Interlocutor walked right into the trap with his obedient, 
“You feel like a stovepipe? How is that, Mr. Bones?”? Then came 
the explosion, with the end man’s delicious answer, “A little sooty!” 
A cosmic jest in its day, but defying analysis! Of such was the kingdom 
of minstrelsy. 

Mr. Bones, on the right end, is balanced by Mr. Tambo on the left. 
Sometimes they make a special entrance, with comic business, and 
sometimes there are two of them on each end. But the principle is the 
same. 

Mr. Tambo gets hisname from the tambourine, even morecommon 
than the bones as a noise maker. Sometimes the whole minstrel troupe 
would carry tambourines to punctuate the climaxes and sustain the 
chords. But the left end man was recognized as the virtuoso of the 
instrument. 

It is hardly necessary to describe the tambourine in detail. Carmen 
and the Salvation Army have sufficiently popularized it. The name 
is derived from “‘tambour,”’ meaning a shallow drum, and “ tambour- 
ine” is its diminutive. France, Italy, and Spain encouraged its use 
long before it entered the circle of American minstrelsy. 

The tambourine permits a rhythmic tapping of its single drum 
head, a whirling of its metal discs, and a general shaking of its com- 
pletely loose and irresponsible mechanism. It is also a temptation to 
jugglery, and Mr. Tambo is a past master of that art. Up in the air, 
behind his back, under his chair, goes his tambourine, sometimes 
several tambourines at once, with knuckles, elbows, head, and feet 
paying rhythmic tribute to the endlessly moving sheepskin. Biff! 
Bang! Rattle! Whirr! With the bones adding their spirited click- 

29 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


clack, the two end men almost succeed in drowning out the band in the 
rear. 

- The final “walk-around” rises to a frenzied pandemonium of 
rhythmic sound. Bones and Tambo, leaning at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, and holding their noise makers high in air, sustain the climax 
as long as body and soul can stand the 
strain. A final triumphant chord from 
the band, and the curtain drops on the 
First Part. 


THE BANJO 


Far more characteristic of American 
minstrelsy than either bones or tambour- 
ine, however, is the banjo, the legitimate 
musical possession of the Negro him- 
self. 

According to an old poem, originally 
published in Harper’s Magazine, the ban- 
jo goes back to the time of Noah’s Ark, 
and its origin was as follows: 


THE ORIGIN OF THE BANJO 


Go ’way, fiddle, folks is tired of hearin’ you a-squawkin’, 
Keep silence for your betters, don’t you hear de banjo talkin’? 
"Bout de ’possum’s tail she’s gwine to lectur’,—ladies, listen, 
About de har dat isn’t dar, an’ why de har am missin’! 


“Dere’s gwine to be a overflow,” said Noah, lookin’ solemn, 

For Noah tuk de Herald, an’ he read de ribber column. 

An’ so he sot his hands to work a-clarin’ timber patches, 

An’ vowed he’s gwine to build a boat to beat de steamer Natchez. 
30 


THE FIRST PART 


Ole Noah kep’ a-nailin’, an’ a-chip- 
pin’ an’ a-sawin’; 

An’ all de wicked neighbours kep’ 
a-laffin’ an’ a-pshawin’; 

But Noah didn’t mind ’em, knowin’ 
what was gwine to happen, 

An’ fo’tty days, an’ fo’tty nights, 
de rain she kep’ a-drappin’. 


The poem relates how the Ark 
was finally completed, and the ani- 
mals of all creation loaded in, how 
the animals didn’t care for their 
strange surroundings, and that the 
lions and tigers in particular made night and day hideous with their 
roaring and caterwauling. The poem then proceeds: 


Now Han, the only nigger what was runnin’ on de packet, 
Got lonesome in de barber shop an’ couldn’t stan’ de racket; 
An’ so, for to amuse hisself, he tuk some wood an’ bent it, 
An’ soon he had a banjo made, de fust dat was invented. 


Now de ’possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I’m a-singin’, 

De har was long an’ thick an’ strong, jest fit for banjo stringin’. 
Dat nigger shaved ’em off as short as wash-day dinner graces, 
An’ sorted of ’em by de size, from little E’s to basses. 


He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig, ’twas ‘‘Nebber mind de Wed- 
der’; 
She sound like fo’tty-leven bands a-playin’ all togedder; 
Some went to dancin’, some to pattin’, Noah called de figures, 
An’ Ham, he sot an’ knocked de tune, de happiest of niggers. 
31 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Now since dat time, it’s mighty strange, dere’s not de slightest showin’ 
Of any har at all upon de ’possum’s tail a-growin’; 

An’ cur’us too, dat nigger’s ways, his people nebber los’ ’em, 

For where you find de nigger, dere’s de banjo an’ de ‘possum. 


This is a pleasant fancy, but ethnological research proves that 
Africa actually possessed an instrument known as the “‘banjar,’’ made 
of a large gourd, with a neck of wood 
attached, and fitted with four strings. 
It is quite possible that this primitive 
banjo came to America in the earliest 
days of negro slavery. 

The invention of the banjo as we 
know it, however, is generally credited 
to Joe Sweeney, a famous member of 
the early Virginia Minstrels. He took a 
| cheese box, fitted it with a neck, at- 
tached five strings, and there you are. 

Whether we bless or curse Sweeney 
for his invention, the banjo has become 
=, the most popular instrument for accom- 
panying Negro songs, and is an indispensable member of the modern 
jazz orchestra. (It is quite probable that Sweeney borrowed his idea 
from the Negroes themselves.) 

The greatest banjo player of them all was E. M. Hall, whose 
wonderful feats are still remembered in stageland. (He was killed in 
the Iroquois Theatre fire, in Chicago.) Banjo playing called not only 
for musical skill and dexterity, but for juggling ability as well. There 
are still performers who can juggle a banjo while playing a tune, and 
the same trick has long been used by country fiddlers. 

To-day the banjo has largely given way to the ukulele in polite 
society, although its shape and general materials have been adapted to 

32 


THE FIRST PART 
a time when every school and college was represented by a banjo club. 


the easier Hawaiian instrument, as well as to the mandolin. There was 
The old group pictures are with us yet! 


PAST Se = 
Sa at mil r 


pe: A —\ \ Atm ‘ 


“, i a 


aie ey 
> = 
LS Aull 


A 


ais 


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=<4 | el 1 i 
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wists S "MP Zi 

SF ail Fi 


THe MINSTREL CIRCLE IN FULL SwING 
33 


SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US | iy 
ia F 


~~ a 
ig ae 


“y 


cen) , 


IV. SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


TuIs would seem to be the right moment to put down some of the 
songs that stood out in the minstrel shows of the past. They were of 
all kinds, comic and serious, sentimental and ribald, naive and so- 
phisticated. Only a few specimens can be given here, but they are 
genuine. 

Billy Emerson’s Big Sunflower necessarily stands first. It is one of 
the most famous of all minstrel songs, and reference is made to it sev- 
eral times in this book. Emmett’s Old Dan Tucker is even better known 
to the general public, and it is said that there was an actual character 
of that name. The song appears in most of the old minstrel collec- 
tions, along with Root, Hog, or Die, which eventually became a phrase 
of political significance. 

Wake Nicodemus is a more serious type of song, with something 
of the atmosphere of a spiritual. In contrastingly comic vein is Dandy 
Jim of Caroline, which also became in time a traditional phrase in 
the American language. 

Josiphus Orange Blossom contains a rather heavy-handed humour, 
with direct reference to Civil War days and a curious echo, in the final 
stanza, of the English music-hall favourite, Not for Joe. 

One of the less known but distinctly beautiful of the Foster songs 
is Hard Times Come Again No More. On the other hand, I Hope I 
Don’t Intrude is again distinctly of the English school. 

Stop dat Knockin’ at My Door was one of the Christy favourites, 
with chances for plenty of action and clowning. Finally we have a 
typical negro song, Going to the Silver Wedding. 

37 


THE BIG SUN FLOWER 


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SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT 


As days past on and we became, 
Like friends of olden times, 

I thought the question I would pop, 
And ask her to be mine, 

But the answer I received next day, 
How could she treat me so? 

Instead of being mine for life 
She simply answered ‘‘No.”’ [Chorus] 


I went next day dressed in my best, 
This young girl for to see, 

To ask her if she would explain 
Why she had shaken me, 

She said she really felt quite sad 
To cause me such distress, 


US 


And when I said ‘“‘Won’t you be mine?” 
Of course she answered ‘‘Yes.”’ [Chorus]. 


OLD DAN TUCKER 


8va pu nwa pesscauenecesswaebereseenasunnescucsssesnessaesewen pea" S= Senet = or 1. oe 


hear de noise an 


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Ole 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


2. Tucker is a nice old man, 
He use to ride our darby ram; 
He sent him- whizzen down de hill, 
If he hadn’t got up he’d lay dar still. [Chorus] 


3. Here’s my razor in good order 
Magnum bonum, jis hab bought ’er; 
Sheep shell oats, Tucker shell de corn, 
I’ll shabe you soon as de water gets warm. [Chorus] 


4. Ole Dan Tucker an’ I got drunk, 
He fell in the fire an’ kick up a chunk, 
De charcoal got inside he shoe. 
Lor’ bless you honey how de ashes flew. [Chorus] 


5. Down de road foremost de stump, 
Massa make me work de pump; 
I pump so hard | broke de sucker, 
Dar was work for ole Dan Tucker. [Chorus] 


6. I went to town to buy some goods 
I lost myself in a piece of woods, 
De night was dark, I had to suffer 
It froze de heel ob ole Dan Tucker. [Chorus] 


7. Tucker was a hardened sinner, 
He nebber said his grace at dinner; 
De ole sow squeal, de pigs did squall, 
He hole hog wid de tail and all. [Chorus] 


° hee 
ieee 


ROO Pr HOG; OR DIE 


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SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


I’se de happiest darkee on de top ob de earth, 

I get fat as possum in de time ob de dearth, 

Like a pig in a tater patch, dar let me lie, 

Way down in old Virginny, where it’s Root, hog, or die. [Chorus] 


De Boston dandies, dey look so very grand, 

Old clothes hand me down, gloves upon de hand, 
High heel boots, moustaches round de eye, 

A perfect sick family ob Root, hog, or die. [Chorus] 


De Boston gals dey do beat them all. 

Dey wear high heel shoes for to make demself’s tall, 

If dey don’t hab dem, den Lor’ how dey’Il cry, 

De boys hab got to get dem or else Root, hog, or die. [Chorus] 


De Shanghie coats dey’re getting all de go, 

Where de boys get dem I really don’t know, 

But dey’re bound to get dem if dey don’t hang too high, 

Or else dey make de Tailors run Root, hog, or die. [Chorus] 


WAKE NICODEMUS 


Iie 


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or 
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up!'was his charge, “at the first break of day Wakeme up for the great Ju-bi -lec 


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The“Good Time Coming’ is al 


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meet us at the gum tree down in theswamp, To wake Nic-0-de-mus to 


: al 
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ba. 
TINT t 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


He was known as a prophet—at least was as wise— 
For he told of the battles to come; 

And we trembled with dread when he rolled up his eyes, 
And we heeded the shake of his thumb. 

Tho’ he clothed us with fear, yet the garments he wore 
Were in patches at elbow and knee; 

And he still wears the suit that he used to of yore, 
As he sleeps in the old hollow tree. [Chorus] 


Nicodemus was never the sport of the lash, 
Tho’ the bullet has oft crossed his path; 

There were none of his masters so brave or so rash, 
As to face such a man in his wrath. 

Yet his great heart with kindness was filled to the brim— 
He obeyed, who was born to command: 

But he longed for the morning which then was so dim— 
For the morning which now is at hand. [Chorus] 


*Twas a long, weary night—we were almost in fear 
That the future was more than he knew; 
"Twas a long, weary night—but the morning is near, 
And the words of our prophet are true. 
There are signs in the sky that the darkness is gone 
There are tokens in endless array, 
While the storm which had seemingly banished the dawn, 
Only hastens the advent of day. [Chorus] 


50: 


DANDY JIM OF CAROLINE 


Allegretto 


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TRY on 


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SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


2. I drest myself from top to toe, 
And down to Dinah I did go, 
Wid pantaloons strapped down behind, 
Like Dandy Jim of Caroline. (Refrain) 


3. De bulldog cleared me out ob de yard, 
I thought I’d better leabe my card, 
I tied it fast to a piece ob twine, 
Signed ‘‘Dandy Jim of Caroline.” (Refrain) 


4. She got my card, an’ wrote me a letter, 
An ebery word she spelt de better, 
For ebery word an ebery line, 
Was Dandy Jim of Caroline. (Refrain) 


5. Oh, beauty is but skin deep, 
But wid Miss Dinah none compete; 
She changed her name from lubly Dine, 
To Mrs. Dandy Jim of Caroline. (Refrain) 


6. An ebery little nig she had, 
Was de berry image ob de dad, 
Der heels stick out three feet behind, 
Like Dandy Jim of Caroline. (Refrain) 


7. | took dem all to church one day, 
An’ hab dem christened without delay, 
De preacher christened eight or nine, 
Young Dandy Jims of Caroline. (Refrain) 


8. An’ when de preacher took his text, 
He seemed to be berry much perplexed, 
For nothing cum across his mind, 
But Dandy Jims of Caroline. (Refrain) 
53 


JOSIPHUS ORANGE BLOSSOM 


wr 
Sie. Tin in 
2 (NEON Lt lil 
ome nall i i: 
ih hy All BLP 
te) E {Il 
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| aa \hr | 
A MG) 
a I} | 
Me NEY 0 
Ne hae 
Hee it | 
(MY) Ue 
mE 
Ae Thee __N 


Red Hot Hun- 


in love with Jane Me- 


When first I fell 


ky Do - ry Con-tra-band. 


q 


' | 


u | 
i il 
ll Hr 
US Ih 
f | | 
ith il 
It i) 
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tim |W 


’ 


a smile 


eH 
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& 
3 
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[eb] 
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p> 
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ro 
fob) 
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to kiss her 


and tried 


the waist 


caught her round 


Guess not, 


I does - ntlike your style. 


> 


go way 


she 


my 


: 


Oh 


? 


in the land 


- ord Gem-man 


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m 


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[et — 

SS ee eee 

RSS » SRR Sa ee 
2 VERE 8 A SSSR EY EG: ee 


a Red Hot Hun-ky Do - ry Con 


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SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


] thought my Jane Melisser was a beauty, 
So I popped the question to her Sunday night. 
Says she, “‘I think you are the one to suit me, 
Your company always gives me delight.” 
I told her that I thought she was perfection, 
Upon her charming face my eyes could feast, 
And if she had no serious objection, 
Next Sunday night we’d patronize the priest. 


Wa’n’t she sweet? Hard to beat? \ 
She was the blithest creature in the land, 
And I know she loves Josiphus Orange Blossom, 
I’m a Red Hot Hunky Dory Contraband. 


One evening sweet thoughts were o’er me creeping, 
I thought upon my sweetheart I would call, 
As in her window slyly I was peeping, 
I saw something that did my heart appall, 
Her teeth and one eye laid upon the table, 
Her pretty curls were hanging on a peg, 
I laughed aloud as hard as | was able, 
To see her taking off a wooden leg. 


Oh, no! Not for Joe! 
I can’t take Melisser for a wife, 

So out of town I soon got up and dusted, 
I never was so sold in all my life. 


57 


HARD TIMES COME AGAIN NO MORE 


2, 
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fob] 
ba 
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PIANO 


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for) 
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1n 


Let us pause 


Theres a 


poor; 


the 


row with 


sor - 


our ears; Oh! 


in 


OF A 


OV - 


for - 


that will lin - gor 


song 


imes, 


tal 


be 
se * 
jee 
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e 


‘Hard Times, Hard T 


’ 


days 


nae Tae 

EE SR 

Sigal 

imes,come a-gain no more 

ESD, 
(2 See 
CESSES, 
eee 
PEER ES 
ca 
A 
ee 


Man -y 
CN 


the sigh of the wea- ry 


oo more 


"— 2 
= .Qon RS Gy ¢ 2 ) a? ee eT 
nee PA) eo an 7, a A 


CHORUS 


"Tis the song, 
- gain 
round my cab-in door; Oh! Hard T 
er, 


come a 


i ab | 
{ nm all ao all 5 | 
: bes2 Be=Z wh) 


a 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay 


There are frail forms fainting at the door; 
Tho’ their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say, oh! [Chorus] 


There’s a pale, drooping maiden who toils her life away, 


With a worn heart whose better days are o’er; 
Tho’ her voice would be merry, ’tis sighing all the day, oh! [Chorus] 


> 


’Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave 


’Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore, 
’Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave, oh! [Chorus] 


| HOPE I DON’T INTRUDE 


Moderato 


: 
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o 
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My mind is nev-er ea ~ 


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ad 
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post 


For love it is the bur-den of my song; 


rude, — 


And if per-chance I sing or dance, 


OS oe 
area eee | 
St SaaS 
rude, 
ae ase a 
SEIZE, SES WB. 
RSS ES Ho 
eae 


job) 
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JOY 


must not think me 


ll 
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ij 
hh nszka hs 


My heart with joy filled 


ry 


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As it 


So keep the mn.siec ring-ing, 


And I could not keep my feet, 


lit-tle break; You must not think me 


if I make a 


il 


SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


ae i ae ek PER ee Est (AS IS Y 
SS 2 eae 7. 57S G7 Ge bee RE EE BOT S.A eee. a see ee P NGS ies Gerad A 
if... (PS IN RS SOS EE Pe 0 1 ee RS: SR © eee fo RSE "| ee _ Le ee  f 
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= 
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3 


ake one lit-tle break, I hope I dont in-trude. 


FS Tt OK. AS a ae wee we meme IE Gh VD KT RE, 
Se OSTA IS SS Hee, GOT BR, IY (, CEI BE FE, CUR RP Re, Gee Nee ES. SSTOSie he. Ce me ed 
oS ST ST SS 2S a —_ a ES GE CR" GR” ee “eS Ee a ae 
LN TCT SRSA Fest SW TA Xo SERS EY ReSSe GeeOn Ee het | ae 


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rs 


to" iby WT RE UE Ee Ge GY CS WE ) REE Glee PE RE Se ee Ser ee 

7 ck 2, SCS RSE A AI SSS, AY TLS A, OE OT GEER RORY RREROE. ERE ie GOED A Ee 

J OD, Wes 2 ba WR, -E Ee Ti GM - MGS) GSA, Ci i ee Re qe ee De ee 

V SS es ae en, mh Oe 
~~” 


RS 
REE (| Ren ES ae 


' At a fancy ball the other night, myself and little Daisy, 
We kept it up till broad daylight, we felt so awful good, | 
And Daisy looked so fair and bright, she set the men all crazy, 
And when they’d ask her for to dance, she’d say, “‘I wish I could.” 
Then I would say, in careless way, ‘I hope I don’t intrude.” 
[Chorus] 


Blithe and happy be the summer day when I shall wed with Daisy, 
Then the merry birds will sing their lay, and wild flowers scent the 
wood, 
Then the cares of life I cast away, my mind shall then be easy, 
And one and all, if you will call, we will not treat you rude, 
No, if you come to see our home, we'll say you don’t intrude. 


[Chorus] 
63 


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SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


She was the prettiest yaller Gal that eber I did see, 

She never would go walking wid any coloured man but me. 

And when | took my Banjo down, and played three tunes or more, 
All at once I heard, three pretty hard raps come bang again’ my door. 
Wid who dar? who dar? [Chorus] 


Oh, de first one dat cum in de room was a darkey dressed to death, 
He looked just like de showman, what dey used to call Mackbeth. 
He said he was a Californi man, an’ just arrived on shore, 

I ax him whare fore he cum an’ rap, so hard against my door. 
Wid who dar? who dar? [Chorus] 


GOING TO THE SILVER WEDDING 


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72 


SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


There’s old Aunt Hannah and Uncle Pete, who’re getting along in 
years, 

Said that they are going down t’attend this grand affair. 

At night when they were leaving home, how lightly they were tread- 
ing, 

The children asked them, “‘Where you bound?” “‘We’re gwine to de 
Silver Wedding.” [Chorus] 


If you’re going to the Silver Wedding, be quick, it’s nearly time; 

Put on your clothes and let us go, fore the darks drink all the wine; 

Frank Hart said that he would start, and be there prompt at seven, 

To show the presents that he got, down at the Silver Wedding. 
[Chorus] 


FOUND IN THE ARCHIVES OF MEMORY 


Some of the oldest minstrel songs have literally disappeared 
from sight, <nd are no longer to be found in printed form. A few 
samples of such almost forgotten material are added here, as supplied 
by the recollections of older heads than those of the author and the 
editor. 

One famous song that goes all the way back to slavery days is 
The Gum Tree Canoe, which started like this: 


All day in the field of soft cotton I hoe, 

I think of my Judy, and sing as I go. 

I caught her a bird with a wing of true blue, 

And at night rowed around in my gum-tree canoe; 


Chorus: 

Roll away, roll away, waters so blue, 

Like a feather we’ll float in my gum-tree canoe. 
73 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Of The Little Octoroon, closely associated with the Civil War, 
only the second verse and chorus are remembered, as follows: 


Then the brave old gunner took her in his arms. 
Thinking of his own dear ones at home. 

And through all the marches, and the rude alarms, 
Safely brought the Little Octoroon. 


Chorus: 
Glory, glory, how the freedmen sang! 
Glory, glory, how the old woods rang! 
“Twas the loyal army sweeping to the sea, 
Flinging out the banner of the free! 


Can anyone to-day remember the rest of the songP 


There are people all over the United States to-day who cherish 
the recollection of such homely ditties. Absurd as they may have 
been, there is about them an endearing quality, and the pity is only 
that they are so rapidly fading into oblivion. 


Billy’s Dream, however, the star number in the repertoire of Billy 
Arnold, can be supplied in its entire text, from the archives of mem- 
ory: 


BILLY S DREAM 


I had a fight with old Satan last night, 

As I lay half awake. 
Old Satan he came to my bedside, 

An’ me began to shake. 
He shook me long, an’ he shook me strong, 

He shook me clear out of bed; 
Then grabbed me by the collar, an’ looked me in the face, 
An’ what do you think he said? 

74 


ONIdNOUL,, ATAVA JO SAIGIG MAVC ANV LHOMG FHL 


» 


YNOWAAS ASTAN SAGNVSUYHxN ATI INVAYd NVG 


SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 
[The Minstrels: ““What did he say, Uncle Billy?] 


Chorus: 
There’s gold in the mountains, 
There’s silver in the mines, 
An’ it all belongs to you, Uncle Bill, 
If you only will be mine. 
[Repeat by Minstrels.] 


DP 


He dragged me to the window, an’ says, “Look there!” 
The moon it shone quite bright, 

An’ the little hills an’ the mountains grand 
Shone clear unto my sight. 

“Dear William,” sez he, “these will all be yours, 
If you’ll be my gen’ral when you’re dead”’; 

I grabbed him by the collar, an’ looked him in the face, 
An’ what do you think I said? 


[The Minstrels: “‘What did you say, Uncle Billy?’’| 


Chorus: 
Get ye gone, Mister Satan, 
You’ve come here for to kill, 
You may fool the white folks wid that trash, 
But you can’t fool poor black Bill. 
[Repeat| 


oF 
I was feelin’ kinda chilly, so I crep’ back, 
An’ crawled me into bed; 
An’ all night long in my dreams I saw, 
My dear Lord His head. 
75 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Ole Satan done vanished through the floor, 
An’ a light on me it shed; _ , 

I threw the covers right off my face, 
An’ the Lord to me He said; 


[The Minstrels: “What did He say, Uncle Billy?” 


— Chorus: 
“Well done, faithful servant, 
You may sit at my right hand, 
An’ play on the golden harp all day, 
Although but a poor coloured man.” 
[Repeat] , 


i , 


THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


V. THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


Like that fabled bird with asbestos feathers, the Phoenix, that 
rose from dead ashes to flap its wings in derision of the flames that had 
raged around it, so do jokes lie dormant and apparently lifeless for 
years, only to spring into life again at a wave of the magic wand of 
some professional jester. The form may be changed a bit, but the 
germ of the joke is the same. 

So it is with stories which have for their foundation certain 
dramatic or comic situations. They live, and live again, recast in the 
minds of story-tellers, borrowed consciously or unconsciously from 
their original sources, and refurbished until they take on the sem- 
blance of originality and newness. 

*‘Men may come, and men may go, but jokes go on forever.” 
And so do stories for that matter. 

Plagiarism came in about the time Cadmus invented letters, and 
has flourished ever since. 

Mr. Dooley says, ‘“‘It’s my story, because I told it last.” 

Kipling makes his confession in the much-quoted lines: 


“When ’Omer smote ’is bloomin’ lyre, 
He'd ’eard men sing by land an’ sea; 

An what he thought ’e might require, 
"E went an’ took—the same as me!”’ 


Shakespeare’s writings are full of puns, jokes, and plays on words 
which, with slight modifications, still pass current as witty material. 
Minstrelsy has made use of the same jokes over and over again, many 
of them dating back to ancient literature. 

ia 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


| On the other hand, the old minstrel shows have provided plots 

and situations, not to speak of ‘‘gags”’ and “‘hokum”’ for much of the 
modern stage material. The pun has been called ‘‘the lowest form of 
wit,” a mere reflex action in the association of sounds. Quite logically, 
therefore, the pun is the staple fare of minstreldom. But the popularity 
of punning goes much further back in history than this. 

The minstrel men probably got their terrible punning habit from 
the English writers of pantomime and extravaganza. This was not 
exactly a case of reincarnation, but of transplanting a weed among 
the flowers of rhetoric. 

Malapropisms have always flourished in the minstrel show, par- 
ticularly when imitating the speech of the negro, who loves big words 
and lots of them, and can mispronounce them and get their meanings 
tangled with grace, facility, and generally comic effect. 

Conundrums have also furnished a large stock in trade for the 
humorists of the minstrel show. (See the discussion of the end men and 
Interfocutor, pp. 25-29.) The more absurd the answer supplied by the 
end man, the better for chuckles. The propounding of conundrums is 
one of the oldest methods of joke making, older than history, old as 
mythology; and still new ones are propounded every day, many of 
which are old ones dressed in the modern vernacular. 

Here are a number of old minstrel ‘‘wheezes” which have been 
used in many forms. Several of them occur in Hughey Dougherty’s 
“Oratorical Stump Speaker,’ a source book for much comic ma- 
terial. 


Q. When was the theatrical business first spoken of in the Bibler 
A. When Eve appeared for Adam’s benefit. 


Eddie Foy, in “‘Piff, Paff, Pouf,” gave the Adam and Eve joke 
a new twist which has been often repeated since: 
Q. Why was Eve made? 


A. For Adam’s Express Company. 
80 


THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


Here is another of international flavour: 
Q. What language does an Arabian child speak before it cuts its teeth? 
A. Gum Arabic. 


The same wheeze appears in ‘‘Erminie,” when Ravvy is telling 
what a distinguished linguist his friend Caddy is. The Princess asks, 
“You say your friend speaks Arabic?’”’ And Ravvy answers, “‘Cer- 
tainly, gum Arabic.” 


Animal jokes and puns have always been popular. This one is 
from Dougherty’s book: 


Q. Why do hens lay in the daytime? 
A. Because at night they become roosters. 


The next is almost too simple to be true, but it still lives: 


Q. What has a cat got that nothing else has? 
A. Kittens. 


This nautical experiment is rather far-fetched: 


Q. Where do ship captains keep their poultry? 
A. In the hatchway. 
And here is one for which Seth Thomas, the clockmaker, fired a 
working man back in 1818: 


Q. What is always behind time? 
A. The back of the clock. 


(Seth said he made Grandfather’s clocks, but didn’t like Grand- 
father’s jokes.) 

In a joke book printed nearly fifty years ago, under the heading 
“Gags,” occurs the following cross-fire talk between middle man and 
end man, the substance of which is used as a mental test question in 
our schools to-day: 

MippLeE: Did you see me coming home with a gun over my shoulder? 


Enpb: Yes; where did you gor 
81 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED” 


MippteE: | was out shooting. There was no game! 

Enp: You didn’t have your cards with you, did your 

Mippte: As | said before, I found no game. I was returning home rather dis- 
appointed, when | saw on a fence, not a dozen yards from me, five crows. 

Enp: What colour were the crows? 

Mipvp.e: Black, of course. Now, tell me—I shot one, how many were left? 

Enp: Any fool knows that. Why, there was four left. 

Mipp.e: No, sir, I knew you couldn’t tell me. Now try again. 

Enp: You say there wasn’t four left? Now, let’s see; five cows sitting on a 
fence. 

MippDLeE: Five crows, not cows. 

Enp: Yes, crows. You come along with a deadly weapon concealed about your 
person. You sneak up to these unsuspecting crows, and you aim at the biggest crow. 
He’s sittin’ there chattering with glee, not dreaming that death lurks in such close 
proximity to his person. You blaze away; the fat crow drops. He’s dead—he’s 
defunct! He’s obliterated! He’s gone to that place from where no feller gets back! 


Now you want to know how many is left? Four! You can’t get out of it. Four left. 


Mipp.e: You’re wrong! When I fired my gun, and killed one crow, the rest 
flew away; consequently, there was none left. Ha, ha! Ha! 


(It will be noted that contrary to tradition, the joke is here on the 
end man.) 


Here is a negro yarn that dates back at least seventy-five years 
and had a rebirth in New York shortly after the completion of the 
subway as far as Harlem. 

A traveller in the South inquired of a negro the distance to a 
certain place, and received this reply: 


“Dat ’pends on circumstances, massa. Ef you gwine afoot, it’ll take you “bout 
a day; if you gwine de stage or de honeybus, you make it in half a day; but if you 
git in one of dese smoke wagons, you almost dar now.” 


The New York darky answers an inquiry about the distance to 
Harlem and how to get there in a similar manner: 


“If you gwine by de cars what runs on top de ground, it takes you bout two 
hours. If you git in one of dem upstairs cars, it takes you ’bout half an hour; but 
if you goes down dat hole in de ground and gits a car, you is dar now.” — 

82 


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i A ee 


THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


A very old gag, whose descendants are more numerous than 
humorous, is the following: 

“Ed, who was that girl I saw you walking with the other day?” 

“Why, that was my fiancée.” 

“Yes? What’s her name?” 


“Helen French.” 
“What is it in English?’”’ 


(The commonest variant of this joke is the line about going to 
“Helen Hunt” for it.) 

Another antediluvian is the one about a sign reading, ‘‘ Families 
supplied here.’’ A man, seeing the sign, goes into the store, lays down 
two dollars and says, ‘‘Give me a wife and two children.” 

This gag has not only been told on the stage many times but has 
been put into lyric form as a verse for a comic song. 

The one about the man who hates women, who decides to get 
away from women, to go and live alone on a desert island and there 
bring up his children also to hate women has been doing duty for lo, 
these many, many years. 

When one hears a joke that bears the earmarks of antiquity, it is 
generally fastened upon Joe Miller, author of a famous book of 
Witticisms. But the writer of a little pamphlet entitled “Fun in 
Black,”’ published in 1874, goes far back before the days of the re- 
doubtable Miller. According to this writer, a certain Hierocles, in the 
Sixth Century, originated and collected twenty-one jests, under the 
title of “The Pendant,” and, “‘remarkable as it may seem, these 
humorous efforts have been retained, with variations, without be- 
coming obsolete or threadbare.” 

This may have been true in 1874. 

The same pamphlet tells a story about Harry Stanwood, the 
minstrel, which has been related many times since, with a different 
actor in the leading réle each time. 

Stanwood was an inveterate story-teller and jokesmith. While 

83 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


riding in a street car in Philadelphia with a companion, he was, as 
usual, pouring stories and jokes into his companion’s ear. Just as he 
had finished what he considered a particularly clever one, the con- 
ductor of the car called out ‘Chestnut!’ Stanwood jumped up and 
exclaimed: “Chestnut! That ain’t no chestnut! I’ll bet you ten 
dollars you never heard that one before in your life.” 

One of the jokes in “The Pendant” is the request not to go near 
the water until one has learned how to swim. It is possible that this 
admonition was the great-grandparent of the once popular ditty: 


“Mother, may I go in to swim?” 
“Yes, my darling daughter; 
Hang your clothes on a hickory limb, 
But don’t go near the water.” 


Still good for years to come is the comparison of diamonds with 
chunks of ice. (“Cracked ice from Tiffany’s”’ is the way it appeared in 
“Within the Law.’’) Eph Horn, a famous minstrel, pulled it in front 
of Tony Pastor’s theatre many years ago. He noticed a piece of ice 
on the sidewalk. ‘‘Look at that,” said Eph. ‘‘Pastor has lost one of 
the stones out of his diamond pin.” The remark was widely quoted, for 
Pastor’s diamonds outdid even those of Jim Brady. 

One of the stand-bys of minstrelsy, of course, has been the 
familiar ““Who was that lady I seen you with last night? That was 
no lady; that was my wife.” 

There are plenty more of the same vintage still going the rounds. 

Physical jokes and properties are just as likely to repeat them- 
selves as merely verbal whimsies. 

It seems to be a weakness of human nature to enjoy seeing some- 
one run the risk of injury, and a comic stage fall has always been a 
sure laugh, particularly when accompanied by a whack on the bass 
drum. It is equalled as sure-fire material only by the application of the 


1To-day, when they use this joke, they substitute “your wife” for “my wife.” 


84 


THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


slapstick, which incidentally provides the plot for most of the comic 
strips of the day. 

The Romans enjoyed gladiatorial combats because someone 
was sure to get hurt. In a stage presentation, when a comic character 
falls and skids along on the back of his neck, the joy of the audience 
is complete and ineffable. 

Catering to this eternal desire for a practical joke of purely physi- 
cal significance came the device known as ‘‘the slippery day stairs.” 

Thestairs were made after the manner of window shutters, with a 
bar running down them at the back, to which the stairs were fastened. 
When a lever attached to the bar was pulled, the stairs would close up, 
affording an ideal sliding place for the unsuspecting victims of the 
joker handling the lever. 

To see an actor catapulting down these trick stairs always 
brought forth rapturous roars. ‘‘Slippery day stairs” were for years 
a standardized prop in minstrelsy. An old act, called “‘A Slippery 
Day,” was frequently requisitioned to exploit this favourite laugh 
producer, and it was from this act that the stairs got their name. 

When the “slippery day stairs” became a tale too often told in 
minstrelsy, it was reincarnated in several different fashions by pro- 
ducers of farce comedies, and even in semi-serious productions. In 
ship scenes the stairs leading to the bridge were often of the “slippery 
day” variety. 

The idea was used by Charles E. Hoyt in a rather individual 
fashion, in his famous play, “‘A Temperance Town.” The scene is the 
exterior of the village church, time, evening. The congregation is seen 
filing in to listen to a temperance sermon by the pastor. While the 
services are in progress, the town drunkard, horrible example of the 
curse of rum, enters, lugging a treadmill. The drunkard is tired and 
puts the treadmill down with one end resting on the steps of the 
church. 

It does not look like a ‘‘plant,” for the drunkard’s actions do 

85 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


not indicate his intention to play a practical joke; he simply wishes to 
relieve himself of the treadmill until he is rested. 

Soon after, the closing hymn is heard inside the church, the door 
opens, and as the worshippers step on the cleats of the treadmill, they 
begin to revolve, and the whole congregation, including the preacher, 
make hasty and undignified descents to the sidewalk. Curtain. “‘Man 
wants but little here below,” particularly in the way of a joke. 


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Pair no oA DY bNoOTROUMENTALISTS 
SPREAD ACROSS CHARLEY WHITE’S OWN TITLE PAGE 


VI. THE SECOND PART 


Vibe SECOND “PART 


HERE technique is thrown to the winds, and formulas of every 
kind are forgotten. If the first part of a minstrel show paralleled the 
exposition of themes in a symphonic movement, the second part rep- 
resented the development or “‘free fantasia”’ of classic form. 

The particular capabilities of any given troupe had much to do 
with the character assumed by the second part of their show. Indi-. 
vidual specialties had a chance to shine in the “‘olio.” Burlesque and 
parody ran riot, and often a complete drama, including some serious 
situations, was presented as an “afterpiece.”’ 

It has already been suggested that the second part of the typical 
minstrel show fathered the elaborate revues of modern times. We 
still have the individual specialties, the team acts, one playing 
“straight” and one comic, ending in a song and dance, the short 
sketches, and the elaborate burlesques of current drama. Weber and 
Fields were perhaps the first to introduce parodies into their musical 
shows, and their example has been widely followed. 

The minstrel ‘‘afterpiece”’ was a typical product of its day, with 
original themes and situations, and the material of these afterpieces 
has proved a treasure-house for modern writers of musical comedy 
and farce, who have not hesitated to appropriate whatever they 
considered of value. 

(Incidentally, it was interesting to see, in the recent ‘‘Ramblers”’ 
of Clark and McCullough, a ‘‘good-bye”’ scene effectively worked up 
in the exact manner of the ‘‘buona sera’’ episode in Rossini’s ancient 
“Barber of Seville.” The continued reappearance of the actors, after 
they have said good-bye many times, gets just as many laughs as it 


ever did.) 
89 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


The great Harrigan and Hart shows all had the characteristics of 
“‘afterpieces’’ and were built out of what was essentially minstrel 
material. . 

Dancing specialties, of the buck and wing and clog variety, were 
nearly always included in the second part of the show. Stump speeches 
: were also popular, giving special op- 
portunities to the monologue artists 
of the company. 


STUMP SPEAKERS 


With actual orators and lec- 
turers running rampant all over the 
country, a burlesque stump speech 
was not a difficult achievement. 
Local gags could be worked into such 
a speech ad libitum, to add to the 
sure laughs. 

Two of the most famous stump 

== speakers of minstrelsy were Hughey 
Dougherty and Billy Rice. Dougherty was a Philadelphia product, 
and although he did his share of road work, more than half of 
his career was spent at Frank Dumont’s old minstrel palace, the 
Eleventh Street Opera House in Philadelphia. Reference has been 
made to Dougherty’s book of stump speeches, jokes, and gags. It is 
full of broad humour, almost too broad at times even for present-day 
consumption. 

Billy Rice used the earnest, strenuous method of putting over his 
speeches, somewhat in the manner of the late Sam Bernard, who 
always had to make at least one sputtering speech in every show. 
Rice’s chief property was a cotton umbrella, which he would swing and 
bang effectively to emphasize his points. He worked for most of the 
big minstrel managers, Haverly, Emerson, Hooley, and others, and 
go 


THE: SECOND PART 


was also a partner in several companies. Of the whole Rice family, 
prominent and prolific in minstrelsy, Billy was the best stump speaker. 

Musical acts fitted in well with the second part of the minstrel 
show, particularly the kind that displayed unusual versatility, with 
one performer exhibiting his skill on ten or twelve different instru- 
ments. This type of act is still popular in the vaudeville shows, and is 
closely related to the Swiss bell ringers, the marimba specialists, etc. 


THE DARK TRIANGLE 


Sex did not enter appreciably into the minstrel shows, beyond the 
inevitable double entendre of some of the jokes. But the afterpieces 
often had a plot of the triangle type, and the woman in the case was, 
of course, played by a man, and therefore frankly burlesqued. 

As in the traditional college shows, the mere fact that a husky, 
deep-voiced male impersonates a female seems to have an irresistibly 
comic implication, and the more exaggerated the burlesque femininity, 
the more the audience likes it. The traditional climax of mirth has 
always come when the simpering ‘‘lady” suddenly displayed a pair 
of huge feet, emerging from dainty skirts, and preferably topped by 
unmistakably masculine trousers. 

The ability to play a “wench” (the regular term for female 
impersonations) was a real asset in the minstrel business, and most of 
the great comedians included some such parts in their repertoire. 

Dan Gardner, a comedian who starred as early as 1836, is credited 
- with having played the first black-face ‘“‘wench,” and in the later 
afterpieces of the big minstrel shows, female characters of all kinds are 
common. A favourite seems to have been the termagant landlady, 
whose discomfiture the rest of the company always enjoyed with more 
than a professional enthusiasm. 

A Christy playbill of 1857 shows an afterpiece called ‘‘The 
Toodles, with Curtain Lectures”’ (the relationship to Mrs. Caudle is 
obvious), and in the cast is the name of “‘G. Holland” who played the 

Ol 


“GENTLEMEN; BE SEATED!” 


part of ‘“‘Mrs. Araminta Belinda Caudle 
Toodles.’’ This is the same George Hol- 
land who was denied a Christian funeral 
service by a New York minister (God 
save the name!) but whose friends 
eventually found tolerance in the rector 
of the Church of the Transfiguration on 
Twenty-ninth Street. It was in connec- 
tion with the Holland funeral that this 
house of worship was first called ‘“‘the 
little church around the corner,” a name 
that has stuck to it ever since. 

M. S. Pike was another ‘‘wench 
player” of the ’50’s, and a prolific song 
writer as well. One of his best-known songs was Home Again, a very 
popular ballad in its day. 

Wood’s Minstrels, in 1865, featured Henry Wood, the head of the 
troupe, as Mrs. Puffy, in the afterpiece. Billy Birch, of the San 
Francisco Minstrels, was the “‘leading lady” in ‘“The Female Brokers 
of Wall Street,” in 1870. Charlie Backus, of the same troupe, was 
famous for his characterization of Mrs. Splutter, in a farce called 
“Our Hash House”’ played in 1877, and written, it may be imagined, 
with a venomous pen. 

William Henry Rice had the part of Fanny Crusty in “The Ar- 
rival of Patti,’’ described as ‘‘a screaming farce.” His reputation for 
wearing beautiful feminine costumes greatly antedated that of Julian 
Eltinge, and it is said that he actually set the styles in the towns he 
visited and made life miserable for the thrifty local husbands. 

Lew Dockstader is still remembered for his playing of a burlesque 
“Camille,” and the same company contained Willis P. Sweatnam, who 
starred as the Princess in “Our Minnie,” a take-off on that reigning 
success at the Casino Theatre, “‘Erminie.” (This was the same Willis 
Q2 


THE SECOND PART 


P. Sweatnam who not so many years ago showed modern audiences 
how a negro character part could be played, in his flawless portrayal of 
the coloured porter in “‘Excuse Me.’’) 

Another female impersonator of the Eltinge type was ‘“‘the only 
Leon,” of Kelly and Leon’s Minstrels, whose costumes were noted 
for their dainty attractiveness. He was an excellent ballet dancer, and 
could give the impression of femininity even while running the gamut 
of the classic routine. Leon was billed as Galatea in the 1876 perform- 
ance of ‘‘Galatea’s Black Sculptor,” and also in a burlesque of Offen- 
bach’s opera, ““The Grand Duchess,”’ called ‘‘ Dutch S.” 

The “great Ricardo” was prominently billed as a “‘high-class 
wench” with the San Francisco Minstrels and other companies. Of 
Eugene d’Anseli, known simply as ‘‘ Eugene,” it was said that he could 
easily deceive any audience not previously aware of his real sex. He 
played ‘‘fashionable ladies” abroad as well as in America, and Berlin 
theatregoers insisted that “‘Eugene”’ was actually a woman. But why 
argue about such matters? 

»Tony Hart, of the famous Harrigan and Hart team, has been 
described as the finest wench of his day, in either 
black-face or Irish make-up. 

The pictures of old minstrel characters show 
many others who could represent a female convinc- 
ingly, such as Burton Stanley, Stuart, and the Russell 
Brothers, who both played in black-face before vaude- 
ville claimed them. One of Jimmy Russell’s famous 
lines, in the part of a dignified lady talking to her 
servant girl, was ‘‘ Maggie, take that cow out of the 
hammock!”’ Yes, they laughed at it then. 

Perhaps the secret of success in the second part 
of the old minstrel show was its spontaneity. It shared 
with all folk music and folk literature the spirit of im- 
provisation. : ) 


93 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Actually much of the material was put together on the spur of 
the moment and adapted to local needs and the news of the day. 
Old situations could be used over and over again. Ancient plots were 
undoubtedly resurrected, as they still are. But the atmosphere of the 
“‘afterpiece” remained extemporaneous, and it was its very freedom 
from restraint, its lack of all formality, that provided its greatest 
charm. 


‘THE GREAT RICARDO 


VII. A WORKING MODEL 


4 


Vil. A WORKING MODEL 


For those who might like to know exactly how the lines of an old- 
fashioned minstrel show actually sounded, as well as those who may 
wish to try their hand at an amateur revival of this practical and still 
popular form of entertainment, a working model is here given, con- 
taining some of the traditional material of minstrelsy and easily 
adapted to whatever expansion may be necessary or desirable. This 
model gives details of the first part, and suggests possibilities for the 
“olio”’ with a complete ‘‘afterpiece’’ added independently. 

Imagine, then, the semicircle of black-face actors, with each man 
seated in his chair, the end men in absurd and elaborate farce cos- 
tumes, the middle man, or Interlocutor, immaculate in his evening 
clothes, the rest perhaps conventionally garbed. The overture has 
been played (any snappy march will do), and it may be that an 
opening chorus has been added of personal and local significance. 

That famous tune of Spanish War days, A Hot Time in the Old 
Town To-night, makes splendid material for any kind of local parody. 
It is given here in its melody line, with the original words (the com- 
plete music being procurable from the publishers) to which is added 
the suggestion of a special text used with great success by the Radio 
Minstrels, both on the air and in the presence of an actual au- 
dience. 

The opening chorus may be sung in unison or in harmony, but a 
lusty volume of sound is always desirable. Occasionally this musical 
number is announced by the Interlocutor, after his opening salu- 


tation. 
07 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Wheo you~ hear dem a bella go ding, 


All joia ‘round And sweet - ly you must. 


cho - rus all join * in, theroll be a hot timo 


town to - night, my ba - by, night, 


Copyright by Edw. B. Marks MustoCo. Used by permission. 


Bang! Bang! Bang! you will hear the tambos ring! 
The old-time gang will show you they can sing; 
And with a whang! whang! whang! and a zinga, zinga, zing! 
There’ll be a hot time in the old town to-night! And all those : 
Good old tunes will ring out loud and clear, 
Dandy coons in their nifty acts appear; 
And we all hope that you our Minstrel Show will cheer; 
There’ll be a hot time in the old town to-night! 

98 


4dGJOAG PUD LdqID-] SIG Gj1M (}f2]) ANOLG GAA [NfGIno x aq J AUAA[ GNV Nvq ‘SYHHLOYG LNVAUG SH] 


A WORKING MODEL 


We are now ready for the traditional dialogue and its interpolated 
numbers: 


INTERLOCUTOR: Gentlemen, be seated. (Chord in G, accompanied 
by Tambourine.) Well, Mr. Bones, how are you feeling this evening? 

Bones: Very well, Mr. Interlocutor, and how are you—how are 
all your folks? 

INTERLOCUTOR: We’re all well, excepting my brother. You see, a 
team of horses ran away with him, and he’s been laid up ever since. 

Bones: That’s a very strange coincidence, same thing happened 
to my brother. 

INTERLOCUTOR: You don’t say. 

Bones: The only difference is, it was my brother who ran away 
with the team of horses; he’s been laid up ever since, but they’Il let him 
out next month. 

INTERLOCUTOR: My brother is convalescing, but we have to 
watch him very closely. You see, he’s a somnambulist, and he’s liable 
to have a relapse. 

BonEs: My goodness, a slambulnalisist, what’s dat? 

INTERLOcUTOR: Not a slambulnalisist, a somnambulist, one who 
walks in his sleep. 

Bones: Oh, you mean a policeman. (All laugh.) 

INTERLOcCUTOR: I hear they’ve got a machine now that can tell 
when a man’s lying. 

Bones: Yessuh, I married one. (All laugh.) 

Tamso: Say, how can I drive a nail without hitting my fingers? 

Bones: Hold the hammer in both hands, you darned fool. (AJ 
laugh.) 

INTERLOcUTOR: Say, Mr. Bones, weren’t you at some wedding 
yesterdayr 

Bones: Sure, I was to a wedding, and everybody had a good time 
too. The guests arrived in taxicabs and left in patrol wagons. The only 

99 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


one who got in without an invite was a Mexican Swede named 
Maginnis. He must have been a janitor, because he said he came to 
clean up the place. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Then what happened? 

Bones: He forgot to bring his implements and so he used me for a 
mop. 

INTERLOCUTOR: That was cruel of him. 

Bones: Cruel indeed! Why, even my wife got so tender-hearted 
she couldn’t bear to see me get hurt. So every time he knocked me down 
she just picked me up and brushed me off. After he had knocked me 
down about ten or fifteen times, I said to my wife, ‘Look here, the 
next time he knocks me down, you just let me lay.” (All laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: Tambo, you were at that wedding. Did the 
bride get many presents? 

TAmso: Sure she did. Why, she received a hundred silver spoons. 

INTERLOCUTOR: You don’t say, a hundred silver spoons! 

TAMBO: Sure, three were marked Sterling and ninety-seven were 
marked Pullman. (Laughs.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: What strikes you so 
funny? 

TAMBO: (Laughs) After the minister 
pronounced their doom, my brother asked 
him how much he owed, and the minister 
said, ““‘Pay me whatever you think it’s 
worth.” (Tambo laughs aloud above all 
others.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, what are you 
laughing at now? 

TamBo: He’s the first man I ever 
heard of who was willing to work for 
nothing. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Our silver-voiced 

100 


A WORKING MODEL 


tenor will now render that ever-popular ballad of blessed memory 


When You and I Were Young, Maggie, assisted by the quartette! 


WHEN YOU AND I WERE YOUNG MAGGIE 


Moderato 


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creek and the creak-ing old mill, Mag-gie, 


The 


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The green grove 


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A WORKING MODEL 


SEGA LIES i a ORE RISSRH) b WEES REIT bE RE 
a Oi or ReaUaeeS tae a Sa ee a 


a 


A city so silent and lone, Maggie, 

Where the young and the gay and the best, 
In polish’d white mansions of stone, Maggie, 
Have each found a place of rest, 

Is built where the birds used to play, Maggie, 
And join in the songs that were sung: 

For we sang as gay as they, Maggie, 

When you and I were young. [Chorus] 


They say I am feeble with age, Maggie, 

My steps are less sprightly than then, 

My face is a well-written page, Maggie, 

But time alone was the pen. 

They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, 

As spray by the white breakers flung; 

But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie, 
When you and I were young. [Chorus] 


INTERLOcUTOR: Now, Tambo, tell me, how are you feeling this 
evening? 
Tameso: In the language of the Poets, Mr. Interlocutor, I exalts! 


I exalts! 
INTERLOCUTOR: I’m afraid, Mr. Tambo, that I don’t quite 


understand you. 
103 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Tambo: Neither do I, but what I wish to convey to you is that I 
am sittin’ on the top of the world—mentally and physically—Wow! 

INTERLOCUTOR: I am certainly glad to hear that. But what is the 
cause of this feeling of exuberance? 

Tamso: Oh, Mr. Interlocutor, hush your mouth, you is terrible! 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, Tambo, so as to make it easy for you, why 
are you feeling so gay? 

Tamspo: Because my best gal told me that she loved me better 
than any other man in America. 

INTERLOcUTOR: Ah, then you haven’t foreign rights? 

Tamso: I never thought of that. I’ll have to keep my eye on that 
ice man from Hoboken. (All laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: By the way, Mr. Tambo, are you interested in 
the Einstein theory? 

Tamso: No, sir; they always stick to my teeth. 

INTERLOcUTOR: No, no. The Einstein theory is not a food. Why, 
Professor Einstein is the smartest man on earth. 

Tamso: So he’s the other guy! I always knew there was two 
of us. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Why, you fool, Professor Einstein wrote about 
the theory of Relativity. 

Tamso: Oh, he only wrote about them, but I’ve been Jzvzm’ with 
my relatives for twenty years. 

INTERLOcUTOR: No, no. You are all wrong. Why, his theory is 
the most difficult thing in the world to understand. 

Tamso: No, it ain’t. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Then what is? 

Tamso: The most difficult thing to understand is a conversation 
between a Chinaman and a Swede, in which the Chinaman is trying to 
explain to the poor Swede why it is he stutters. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Our sweet singer of spiritual and secular ditties 
will now interpret Ring Dat Golden Bell, with the help of the chorus. 

104 


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Bt ro = ; 
Poa nen oe i ook 
ee ee a ee ae, ee Ae ae 7 ele 


RING DAT GOLDEN BELL 


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and time PP 
Ring dat belk at de gold-en gate, Come you sin-ners, dont be late, Hur-ry on, 


In - ger-soll was 
CHORUS 


an-gels told him 


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HI 


ester: tf 


ae aH 
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ris __it 


bell. 


don't stoplong, Ring-ing at de gold-en bell, Ding a ling a ling. 


A WORKING MODEL 


I’d like to meet you all up there, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 
And punch your tickets for de fare, 
Ring dat golden bell. 
Old Jakey Sharp he won’t be dar, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 
Dey’ll bounce him from de Broadway car, 
Ring dat golden bell. [Chorus] 


I had another dream one night, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

Miss Langtry fought with all her might, 
Ring dat golden bell. 

And Mary Walker jumped and danced, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

And tore her bran new Sunday pants, 
Ring dat golden bell. [Chorus] 


Two countries tried to make a name, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

But neither had the pluck or game, 
Ring dat golden bell. 

The Russian bears and British hams, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

Dey weakened like a pair of lambs, 
Ring dat golden bell. [Chorus] 


Come all you sinners, watch your load, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

Don’t race your horses on de road, 
Ring dat golden bell. 


107 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


You’ll hab no Comstock in de sky, 
Ring dat bell for glory, 

And you can gamble on the sly. 
Ring dat golden bell. [Chorus] 


INTERLOcUTOR: Now, Tambo, you seem to be anxious to say 
something. 

Tamso: Yes, Mr. Interlocutor, I do feel the inclination of exer- 
cising my mouth. 

Bones: Little fellow, you’se just like a frog. 

TamBo: What you mean, Big Boy, I’m like a frog? 

Bones: Why, you all mouth, Boy, all mouth. 

Tambo: Hush, I was just going to ask the Interlocutor a ques- 
tion. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, then, ask it, Tambo. 

TamBo: You ever go to the races, Mr. Interlocutor? 

INTERLOCUTOR: Oh, yes, indeed. I’m very fond of horses. 

TamBo: Then do you know how to make a slow horse fast? 


INTERLOCUTOR: Why, no, how do you make a slow horse fast? — 


TamMsBo: Why, just don’t feed him. (All laugh.) You know I went 
to a race last week; there were four horses in this race, and off they 
started. Snowball at the quarter and La Grippe at the half. Snowball, 
Pickles, and La Grippe came into the stretch neck and neck, and just 
as Snowball and La Grippe came to the finishing post—in flew Enza! 
(All laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: Did you ever back a horse, Mr. Bones? 

Bones: Yes, sir. A friend of mine down at the track told me to 
bet on Bridge. He said it was a walkover. Another fellow told me to bet 
on Gold-digger. He said she’ll get your dough. But I just took my own 
tip and played a horse named Hebrew. He won by a nose. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Our own little Mr. Tambo will now entertain 
us with his original specialty. 

108 


A WORKING MODEL 


(If Tambo does a clog dance, or plays the fiddle or banjo, the old 


Arkansas Traveller will be found a good tune.) 


(If the Interlocutor wishes to sing a song, here or elsewhere, a 
bass solo of the following type is always effective. This chorus repre- 
sents one of the stock numbers of the old-time bass organ-stoppers.) 


109 


in the light-house rings ding dong, When it 


con spirito 
ee 
bell — 


oN 


When the 


loud and long; Then a. 


ing 


warn - 


of 


will think 


sail - or 


And his. 


you, 


to 


back —_ 


hell come 


day 


for tho 


When the 


song, — 


bells brave 


the 


in 


love. _wilI be told 


bell_ in the light-house rings ding dong. ding! dong! ding! dong! When the 


Lento ben marcato 


-house rings ding dong, ding dong, ding dong!__ 


bell in the light 


Copyright by Edw. B. Mafes Music Go. Used by permission, 


110 


UAIONAP] PUY ALNVHATAC ¢q pajvav A plat4{ aq] dutsauq HLVAL, Puv AYALNJOW 
NOLLIGVU | JOV4]-MOVIG AO SWVA] SNOWVA OM] 


as 


i 


A WORKING MODEL 


Bones (Laughing): Ha, ha, ha, ha! 

INTERLOCUTOR: Here, here, what means this sudden burst of 
laughter? 

BonEs: I was just thinking of a tombstone. 

INTERLOCUTOR: I don’t see how you can laugh when you think of 
tombstones. 

Bones: I was thinking of an epitaph on the tombstone of an 
automobile driver. 

INTERLOCUTOR: What was the epitaph? 

BONES: 

Here lies the body of William Jay, 

Who died maintaining his right of way. 

He was right, dead right, as he sped along, 

But he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong. (Ail laugh.) 

Tamso: I heard about one man that died and he met this Mr. 
Salt Peter. 

INTERLOCUTOR: You mean Saint Peter, not Saltpeter. 

Tamso: Yeh, that’s it. Saint Peter, standing at the gate. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Yes, yes, and then? 

Tamso: Well, this Salt Peter, | mean Saint Peter, he was asking 
everybody where they come from, and some he would let in and some 
not. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, that was natural. We can’t all expect to 
enter the heavenly gates. 

TamsBo: No, sir. That’s the hell of it. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Stop swearing and go on with your story. 

Tamso: Well, finally, this man came up to Salt Saint Peter, and 
he was from California. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Ah, yes. California. Land of balmy breezes, of 
citrous fruits and fragrant flowers, where every prospect pleases, 
and every day is Springtime, where birds carol their lovely melodies 
all the year round, where the sun sheds its soft radiance by day and 
the stars smile upon exotic landscapes by night, where—— 

111 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Tamso: Yes, that’s what I said. California. Well, when he told 
Saint Peter he was from California, Saint Peter he considered a 
minute and then he said, ‘‘ Well, you can come in, but you won’t like 
it.” (All laugh.) 4 

Bones: Say, Tambo, why do people always cry at weddings? 

TamBo: Because they’ve all been married before, and know what 
the poor fools are up against. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Why is it that widows can get marries so easily? 

BonEs: ’Cause dead men tell no tales. 

TamBo: Why is it they call the groom’s attendant the best manpP 

Bones: Well, he’s the best off, ain’t her 

Tamso: Does a man take a woman for better or for worse? 

Bones: | don’t know much about the woman, but I know the 
man will get the worst of it. 

TamBo: Why is it the woman takes the name of the man she 
marries? 

Bones: Well, she takes everything else, so she might as well take 
that, too. 

Tamso: Do you think a wife should work for a husband? 

Bones: I certainly do, until she gets him, and then she sure will 
work him. 

INTERLOcUTOR: Mr. Tambo, what kind of a woman did you 
marry? 

Tamso: I married a aie umpire. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Your wife is an umpire? 

TamsBo: Yessuh, my wife is just like the regular Big League 
Baseball Umpire. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Why is your wife like a baseball umpire? 

TamBo: Because she never thinks I’m safe when I’m out. 

Bones: The trouble with you, Tambo, is that you allow yourself 
to be dictated to. Why, the other day I fell down a whole flight of 
stairs. : 

112 


A WORKING MODEL 


TamBo: How did that happen? 

Bones: Because, when I started to go down the stairs, my wife 
said, “Be careful you don’t fall.” 

TAMBo: Yes? 

Bones: Well, I’m the kind of man who never lets any woman 
dictate to him, so I fell down the whole flight of stairs. 

Tamso: Say, Mr. Interlocutor, I answered an ad in the paper 
to-day, and | sure run against a tough one. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, what happened? 

Tamso: This man said to me, “Now, young man, what we want 
is a night watchman that’ll watch, alert and ready, for the slightest 
noise or indication of burglars—somebody who can sleep with one eye 
open and both ears open and is not afraid to tackle anything.” 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, I am positive you filled the position. 

Tamso: You're crazy. I sent my wife around. (All laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: Our mellifluous, harmonious, and glorious quar- 
tette will now oblige with that gem of melting beauty, Aura Lee. 


AURA LEE 


Arranged by Sigmund Spaeth 


Male quartet. 


As the black- 


Neath 


in the Spring 


bird 


QO 
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Sat and piped I 


CHORUS 


- en 


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ew 
fo) 
60 

Set 
°o 


Maid 


Lee, 


Au - ra 


Au - ra Lee, 


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Sun 


i 
- xy 


A WORKING MODEL 


On her cheek the rose was born, 
“Twas music when she spake; 
In her eyes the rays of morn 
With sudden splendour break. [Chorus] 


(Cross-fire between Bones and Tambo.) 
Bones: Dat music makes me feel so happy! 
TamBo: Well, you ain’t going to be happy no more. You’re going 
to be a soldier and I’m going to train you. I’m a first-class soldier 
trainer, I is. I’m a regular lion trainer, I is. 


Bones: You is a lion trainer? 


TaAmsBo: That’s what I said. I’se a hard-boiled lion trainer, [I 1s. 


Bones: You’se a lion son of a gun. 


Tamso: What’s that you said—what’s that you said? 

Bones: I said I’d like to be trying that gun. 

TamBo: When I says you try that gun, you'll try it and not 
before. Remember, I’se de boss. Has you made up your mind to be 


a good soldier, boyr—Cause, if you 
hasn’t, I’se going to start right in to 
make it up for you. 

Bones: Of course I is, of course I is. 

TamBo: Now, soldier, if you was 
_tosee the enemy coming, would you run 
or would you follow me? 

Bones: I’d be doing both, because, 
if any enemy approaches, I’l] be running 
right behind you. 

Tamso: Was your pappy a soldier? 

Bones: Yessir, he was at the battle 
of Bull Run. He was one of the ones that 
ran. He had a horse pistol, my father 
did. 

115 


One uN our dohenders 


TAMBO: 
BONES: 
TAMBO: 
BONES: 


killed. 


TAMBO: 
BONES: 
TAMBO: 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


You mean a hospital? 

No. A horse pistol. He raised it from a Colt. 

Did he ever do anything brave? 

Yes. At one time he saved a whole regiment from being 


How come? 
He killed the cook. 
I’m going to see how much of the army you know. 


Attention! Did you hear what I said? I said, Attention! 
Bones: Ain’t I attention? 


‘TAMBO 
knees down 


: You is attention from your knees up but from your 
you're at parade rest. 


Bones: What’s the matter with my feet? 


TAMBO 


: You done got them too close to the ground. 


Bones: They’re my feet, ain’t they? 


TAMBO 


: Of course they is your feet. 


Bones: They’re under me, ain’t they? 


TAMBO 


BONES: 


‘TAMBO 


: Of course they is under you. 
I’se on top of them, ain’t IP 
: Of course you’se on top of them, but if all the men in the 


army had feets as big as them, they’d only be able to get two on the 


parade grou 
service. 


BONES: 


tree? 
TAMBO 
around but 
service. 
BONES: 
TAMBO 
ever around 
BONES: 


nd at once. I can see you got in the wrong branch of the 
What do you mean the wrong branch? What am dis—a 


: Yes, you might call it a tree, because you can bark 
they never let you leave. You ought to be in the aviation 


What for? 


: Because you’re no good on earth. Say, boy, was you 


when there was any bullets flying? 
I was, once, when a crazy man started shooting. 
116 


TAMBO: 
BONES: 


A WORKING MODEL 


Did you run? 
I wouldn’t exactly call it running, but I done passed 


some folks that was running. 


TAMBO: 
BONES: 
TAMBO: 
BONES: 
TAMBO: 
BONES: 
TAMBO: 
BONES: 


Then you didn’t get hit in the fracas? 

No, I had that well covered. 

What did you have it covered with? 

With my handkerchief. 

Then you didn’t get hit? 

I didn’t get hit, but I heard one of them bullets two times. 
You heard one of them bullets two times? 

Yessir. | heard a bullet when it passed me and | heard it 


again when I passed it. 
TamsBo: Man, you is a coward. You know what we do with 
cowards in the army? We shoots them. We shoots them all at sunrise. 


BongEsS: 


Then I’m sorry, mister, I just can’t help you out, ’cause 


I never get up till the middle of the afternoon. (All laugh.) 
INTERLOCUTOR: Our golden-voiced baritone will sing that touch- 
ing ballad, Darling Nelly Gray. 


DARLING NELLY GRAY 


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whiled man-y hap-py hours a - way, 


Con espressione 

PIANO | 

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SBP BA PI! RAR ABST BEERS ELIS 
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dar-ling Nel-ly Gray. 


PP 
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Nel-ly Gray, they have tak-en you a-way, And Ill 


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weep-ing a 


“GENTLEMEN, BE-GEATED?’ 


When the moon had climbed the mountain, and the stars were shining 
too, 
Then I’d take my darling Nelly Gray, 
And we'd float down the river in my little red canoe, 
While my banjo sweetly I would play. [Chorus] 


One night I went to see her, but ‘‘She’s gone!’ the neighbours say, 
The white man bound her with his chain; 

They have taken her to Georgia for to wear her life away, 
As she toils in the cotton and the cane. [Chorus] 


My canoe is under water, and my banjo is unstrung, 
I’m tired of living any more, 

My eyes shall look downward, and my song shall be unsung, 
While I stay on the old Kentucky shore. [Chorus] 


My eyes are getting blinded, and I cannot see my way; 
Hark! there’s somebody knocking at the door— 

Oh! I hear the angels calling, and I see my Nelly Gray, 
Farewell to the old Kentucky shore. 


Final Chorus . 

Oh! my darling Nelly Gray, up in heaven there they say, | 
That they’ll never take you from me any more, | 

I’m a-coming—coming—coming, as the angels clear the way, 4 
Farewell to the old Kentucky shore. | ; 


INTERLOCUTOR: Now, Tambo, didn’t that song touch your 

TAmBo: No, but the fellow that sang it did. He still owes me five. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Enough! Enough! 

TAmBo: He sure has got enough from me, I’ll say he has. 

INTERLOCUTOR: I am astonished at you. Why, the idea of a man 
120 


A WORKING MODEL 


of your mental calibre talking about such sordid matters, right after 
listening to such a beautiful song! Have you no sentiment left? 

TamBo: No, I haven’t got a cent left. 

INTERLOcUTOR: | didn’t say cent, I said sentiment—sentiment 
—the tender thought that rules the world—the language of the 
flowers—the music of Mendelssohn—all that arouses sweet feelings. 
Why, man, can’t you feel? 

TamsBo: I feel he ain’t never going to pay me my five back. (All 
laugh.) 

INTERLOcUTOR: I’m afraid that music, the divine attribute of 
'genius, does not appeal to you—music, the subtle harmonies of which 
have led men to battle for their country, to die without a thought of 
the future. 

TamBo: When they die, how are they going to pay me my money 
backp 

INTERLOcUTOR: I’m not talking about money, but about music. 
Doesn’t it soothe your Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, 
and you have no love for music! Bones, do you love music? 

Bonss: I should say I do. Why, whenever I hears music, my 
heart goes bumpity-bump. 

INTERLOCUTOR: You’re mistaken, your heart does nothing of the 
kind. 

Bones: I guess I ought to know what my heart is doing. 

INTERLOcUTOR: I tell you that you are mistaken. Your heart has 
nothing to do with your emotions. Your heart has no feeling, it is 
dumb. 

Bones: My heart is bum? 

INTERLOcUTOR: Not bum—dumb! 

Bones: I got a bum heart? 

INTERLOCUTOR: No, you haven’t a bum heart. What I mean is 
that it isn’t in your heart that your feeling exists. 


Bones: It is. 
I2I 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


INTERLOCUTOR: It isn’t. 

Bones: Say, whose heart is this, anyhow? (All laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: Tambo, I hear you were up before the judge the 
other day. What seemed to be the reason for your being summoned? 

TamBo: Well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Interlocutor, | was summoned 
to appear befo’ de judge fo’ participatin’ in rollin’ out those African 
dominoes. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Oh, I see, you were playing dice. 

TamBo: Yessir, that’s it. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, what did the judge say to youP 

TAMBO: Why, he jest sed, “‘I’m going to fine you ten dollars,” 
and I hurriedly put my hand in my pocket and I sed, “Judge, here’s 
the ten dollars, I got it right here in mah pocket”’; an’ he looked at 
me and said, “All right, now—all right, now.” 

INTERLOCUTOR: All right, what did he say? “‘All right, now?” 

TAMBO: He turned to me and sed, “‘All right, now, just look in 
your other pocket an’ see if you got ten days.’’ (All laugh.) 

TAMBO: I got a poem I can recite. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, go ahead and recite it. 


Mary had a little lamb. 

With her it used to frolic. 

It licked her cheek in play one day 
And died of painters’ colic. (All laugh). 


Bones bursting out: 
Mary had a little lamb, 
Her father killed it dead, 
And now it goes to school with her 
Between two hunks of bread. (All laugh). 


INTERLOCUTOR: That scintillating comedian, our ebony-hued 
Mr. Tambo, will render a riot of risibility entitled Nancy Fat. 
122 


NANCY FAT 


Nan - cy Fat she was 


O 


In 


eV - er saw, 


The fair-est gal I 


Fair and tall and slen-der, 


love-ly foot I know she had, In- 


A 


all the fe-male gen-der, 


A WORKING MODEL 


O Nancy Fat she had a mouth, I cannot now describe it, 

It opened like a safety valve, when she wished to divide it; 
And well I knows she had a nose, and everybody knows it, 

The end of it just looks as if the brandy bottle froze it. [Chorus] 


O Nancy Fat had two such eyes, like burnt holes in a blanket, 
The inspiration from her soul, I took it in and drank it; 
She says this darkey am so sweet, she loves me like molasses; 


Dat small machine she calls her heart, goes pit-pat as it passes. 
[Chorus] 


If Nancy Fat does marry me, how nice we’ll live together, 

She and I and all the bairns, like ducks in rainy weather; 

And as we march unto de church, and hear de bells a-ringin’, 

De joy will break dis nigger’s heart, to hear de darkies singin’. [Chorus] 


INTERLOCUTOR: Say, Mr. Bones, what happened to that beau- 
tiful beard that you used to wear?’ 

Bones: That full beard? 

INTERLOCUTOR: Certainly, it was a full beard, and a very fine 
one. 

Bones: Yes, that was a wonderful beard. It took me years to 
raise it. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Then why didn’t you keep it? 

Bones: Well, I’ll tell you. It was this way. The other day a 

125 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


friend of mine came up and he was admiring my beard. And he says 
to me, “‘ Mr. Bones, what do you do at night with that beard? Do you 
sleep with it on the outside of the covers or the inside?”’ And I said I 
really didn’t know exactly and I’d find out for him. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Yes, yes, go on. What did you find? 

Bones: Well, sir, I tried sleeping with it on the outside of the 
covers, and I couldn’t go to sleep, and then I tried it on the inside and 
I couldn’t go to sleep, and I tried it both ways some more, and still I 
couldn’t go to sleep, and so the next day I shaved off the beard. (All 
laugh.) 

INTERLOCUTOR: We will now have an instrumental number by the 
band, in the fascinating rhythm of The Cake Walk. 

(The following number is a combination of three cake walks, 
Little Alligator Bait, Chocolate and Eli Green’s, published by M. Wit- 
mark & Sons and the Edw. B. Marks Music Co., and used by their 
permission.) 


itt x oes i 
a a ee ee a ee 


ea ee eR 


Poe Ve | a 


CAKE WALK 


if 
{I 
: 
il 
1 
lI 
Hl 
il 


Oe ee te 


il 
b 


ee ee en ee 


128 


i 
eh 


129 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


INTERLOcUTOR: By the way, Mr. Bones, what is a vacuumpP 
Bones: Why, I can’t—er—er—describe it. | have it in my head. 
INTERLOCUTOR: Say, what kind of music can you play on a shoe 
hornr 

BonEs: Footnotes. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Where do you live now, Mr. Bones? 

BoNES: Swampscott. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Isn’t that the place where they ring curfew every 
night at eight? 

Bones: They used to, but they don’t any more. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Why not? | 

Bones: Because they woke everybody up. 

INTERLOCUTOR: And now, last but not least, what is your own 
personal definition of garlic? 

Bones: Why, that’s easy. Garlic is a vegetable limburger. 

INTERLOCUTOR: When is a joke not a joke.? 

BonEs: Usually. 

Tamso: I can ask some riddles, too. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Go ahead, Tambo. What riddles do you know? 

Tamso: When, oh, when will water stop running down hill? 

INTERLOCUTOR: My dear man, water will never stop running 
down hill. 

Tamso: Oh, yes, it will. Water will stop running down hill when 
it gets to the bottom. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Aren’t you clever? Do you know any more like 
thatr 

TamBo: Yes. What is it that the more you take from it, the 
larger it grows? 

INTERLOCUTOR: Well, what is it? 

Tamso: A hole. Now you ask one. 

INTERLOcUTOR: All right, then, what’s the difference between 
a cat and a match? 

130 


A WORKING MODEL 


Bones: I don’ know, what is the difference between a cat and a 
matchr 

INTERLOCUTOR: Why, a cat lights on its feet, and a match lights 
on its head. (Laugh.) 

Bones: Well, then, why is your hat like Saturday and Sunday? 

INTERLOcUTOR: I haven’t the slightest idea why my hat is like 
Saturday and Sunday. Why is it? 

BonEs: Because it’s on a week end. 

INTERLOCUTOR: That soothing lullaby, Little Alabama Coon, will 
be interpreted by our crooning melodist with the honeyed palate, 
assisted by the quartet. 


-Moderato 


Go to sleep, my lit - tle pick - a - nin - ay, 


ole mam-my Jin- ay, Mam-my’ss gwine to swat yo’ if you 


wont; (baby cry) sh! sh! sh! Lu- la, lu - la lu-la lu-la Iu! 


Ui-der-neaf de sil-ver south-ern moon; Rock-a-by! hush-a- by! 


Mam-mys lit-tle ba-by, Mam-my’s lit-tle Al-a-bam-a~< Coon. 


(The melody of the chorus is a sufficient reminder of this well-known song published by the Edw. B. Marks Music Co., 
and quoted here by special permission.) 


131 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


INTERLOCUTOR: Tambo, do you know anything about astron- 
omyr 

TamsBo: I haven’t met the lady in years. 

INTERLOCUTOR: No, no. Astronomy is the study of the nebular 
hypothesis, the study of planets. For instance, do you know that the 
sun is so far away it would take two thousand years for a wireless 
message to reach there? 

TamBo: Maybe you better send a picture postcard. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Good heavens, man, don’t you realize that the 
sun is often at a distance of ninety-three million miles? 

TAmBo: Oh, that must be out near New Rochelle! 

INTERLOCUTOR: New Rochelle! Nothing of the kind. Don’t you 
know that the sun gives us all our light? 

TAMBO. Sun may give us our light, but I notice that the gas 
company makes us pay for it. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Scientists have estimated the sun travels toward 
the earth with great velocity. 

Tameo: I used to ride one. 

INTERLOcUTOR: | don’t believe you know what velocity is. 

TAmBo: Sure I do; it’s a bicycle with three legs. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Do you know that the sun gives us life? 

TamBo: That’s nothing. I know a judge who gives us the same 
thing! . . . (All laugh.) Does anybody live up in the sun? 

INTERLOcUTOR: I don’t think so, because when you look at it 
through a telescope everything looks bare. 

TamBo: Then, maybe only women live there. 

INTERLOCUTOR: No, no, all you can see in the sun is gas and hot 
air. 

TAamBo: Oh, I see, they have policemen up there, too. 

INTERLOcUTOR: | can see if you ever get on the police force it will 
be a miracle. Perhaps you don’t even know what a miracle is. 

TAMBO: Sure, I know what a miracle is. 

132 


A WORKING MODEL 


INTERLOCUTOR: Very well, then, what is a miracle? 

TaAmsBo: If you see a bull in a field, that’s no miracle. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Very true; if you see a bull in a field, that’s no 
miracle. 

Tamso: If you see that bull eating a thistle, that’s no miracle. 

INTERLOCUTOR: Correct; that’s no miracle. 

Tamso: If you see a little meadowlark singing while that bull is 
eating the thistle, that still ain’t no miracle. 

INTERLOcUTOR: Still that’s no miracle. 

Tamso: But if you see that bull sitting on that thistle singing 
like that lark, man, that’s a miracle! 

INTERLOcUTOR: Ladies and Gentlemen, we will now close our 
minstrel show with the entire company singing, Ob! Susanna. 

(Ob! Susanna is one of the catchiest of the Foster songs, and 
makes a splendid finish and ‘‘walk around.’’) 

(If preferred, the chorus of A Hot Time in the Old Town may be 
used again as a closing number. A recent popular revival, also, is 
Down South, whose chorus is given herewith.) 


Come on down south, way way down south, where 
the sun shines every day, 

Soft skies of blue smile down on you, and all the 
birds are singing clear and gay. 

Come on along, join in the song, jump on board, it 
won't be long, 

We’re on our way, hip, hip, hurray! We’re going 
down south to-day! 


Copyright by Edw. B. Marks Music Co. 


133 


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The weather 


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OH! SUSANNA 


d all n 


rain’ 


knee, 
The sun so hot I froze to death 


Allegretto 


jo on my 


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il 


SNINA JO SadA] YFHIC) OM] AW GAMNVIAY ‘YOLNOOTAALN] LVAD VY 
dayvady quenjy ‘ADIY ATG SHO7) ADUNOAN _ Wo] ajuy],, SB ODSVIAG GIAVGC] 


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come from Al- a - ba-ma,wid my ban-jo on my knee 


3 | 


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ba-ma, wid my ban-jo on my knee. 


come from Al-a - 


knee. 


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-ma, Wi 


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come from Al-a 


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a | || i 
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“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


] jumped aboard de telegraph 
And travelled down de ribber, 
De ’lectric fluid magnified, 
And killed five hundred nigger. 
De bullgine bust, de horse runs off, 
I really thought I’d die; 
I shut my eyes to hold my breath: 
Susanna, don’t you cry. [Chorus] 


I had a dream the odder night, 
When eb’ry t’ing was still; 

I thought I saw Susanna, 
A-coming down de hill. 

De buckwheat cake war in her mouth, 
De tear was in her eye; 

Says I, I’m coming from de South, 
Susanna, don’t you cry. [Chorus] 


I soon will be in New Orleans 
And den I’ll look all round, 
And when I find Susanna, 
I’ll fall upon the ground. 
But if I do not find her, 
Dis darkie’ll surely die; 
And when I’m dead and buried, 
Susanna, don’t you cry. [Chorus] 


THE OLIO—A STUMP SPEECH 
While the olio is strictly the part of the stage devoted to individ- 
ual acts, the term has come to mean that part of a minstrel show which 
divides the first from the second, permitting the introduction of such 
specialties as the talents of the company may provide. Dances and 
musical acts, instrumental solos, etc., can be introduced here. 
136 


A WORKING MODEL 


But the typical feature of the old-time olio, often figuring also in 
the first part, is the stump speech. A practical example follows, from 
an actual collection of former days: 


HIsTORICAL REMINISCENCES 
Ladies and Gentlemen: 

I appear before you this evening in the garb of an orator, and to show you how 
much disturbance one man can cause in a multitude. I assemble myself before you 
this evening for the purpose of delivering a lecture on ancient and modern history; 
also to express my opinion on the stability of self-government. Now, in order that 
my lecture should be fully understood, | shall divide it into two parts; T-O-X-, 
two. The first part shall be as we ourselves, and the second part shall be the same 
thing exactly. Now, suppose a man comes up to me and says, or suppose a man 
came up to me and didn’t say, still | should say he said so. But we are digressing. 
In looking at the financial resources of this country, we find we have money (to 
get). We have gold, silver, and greenbacks. There are various kinds of silver: We 
have German silver, silver silver—and—and—“ Silver threads among the gold.” 
Well, that don’t make any difference. Greenbacks, however, are worth more than 
silver, more than gold. For instance, take a silver dollar (that is, if the man ain’t 
looking: we come pretty near knowing how to do that). Take a silver dollar, put 
it in a pocket-book and allow it to remain there a week. Take it out; silver dollar, 
that’s all. Mark the difference; take a dollar greenback, and put it in a pocketbook, 
and as soon as you do you double it. Allow it to remain there a week, take it out, and 
you find it in creases! Very well. 

Where was New York thirty-seven thousand years ago? Echo answers, “No- 
body.” I'll tell you where it was: The Indian’s wigwam was heard in the distance- 

_and the scalping-knife and thomas-hawk was buried in the briny deep—and—and— 
yet we were not happy. Oh, my tiresome hearers, let us look back into dim futurity, 
and if you will believe me, and a great many have done so (while under the influ- 
ence of liquor), things are coming to a crisis. 

As the poet says, “Oh-oh-oh-oh (never mind, he owes everybody); Oh, I feel 
as though I could sweep.”’ Reform! We as constituents of our representatives, we 
find—we find—yes, that is if we’re lucky to find. But before soaring into the regions 
of hyperbolic rhetoric, and descending into commonplace hyper-criticisms, which 
always characterizes inquisitorial verbosity. Who is there among us who isn’t here? 
Let him speak and I’ll have him on the police force in ten minutes. Reform emanating 
as it does from the broad principles of liberty, liberties which were inculcated by our 
fore-fathers, liberties—and yet how strange. This young man | speak of—— And 
in reviewing from an asteroid standpoint of political exegitical analysis (what’s the 
matter, am I too much for your), or abglutinating the polytechnical ectoblasts of 
homogeneous etticeticisms, you can’t do it, it’s impossible. Reform! Of course you 
don’t know anything about it. Neither do I, so I’ll explain it to you. 


137 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Having discussed my historical subject so fully, | feel confident that there are 
none within hearing of my voice to-night who are not satisfied that at one time or 
another Chicago was discovered, and to my sorrow. I was in Chicago during the 
World’s Fair, about three weeks, and I never want to see or hear of Chicago again. 
I wasn’t there ten minutes when someone went through me and stole my pocket- 
book. A friend of mine was with me at the time; he said, “I tell you, when Gabriel 
blows his horn in Chicago he’ll wake up many a sinner.” | said, “Oh, no, Gabriel 
will never have a chance to blow his horn in Chicago.”’ He said, “Why?’”’ I said, 
“They'll steal it before he has a chance to blow it.” 


AN AFTERPIECE 
For an afterpiece, any short play can be used, depending on the 
cast available. Herewith is presented an “‘Africanization”’ of the an- 
cient English comedy. ‘“‘Box and Cox,” which has been the staple 
fare of amateur actors the world over. It is curious to note that Mr. 
Christy (whose eulogy of the play is printed in full) failed to eliminate 
many of the typically English turns of speech. 


138 


Ee 
: 


BOX AND COX 
In One Act 


AFRICANIZED EXPRESSLY FOR 
GEORGE CHRISTY 


BY Peep rRKonN CHRISTY, ESO,’ 
With The Stage Business, Cast Of Characters, Relative Positions &c. 


ORIGINAL CAST OF CHARACTERS 


Whitewasher, who labours hardallday, .................... Mr. George Christy, 
Waiter in an all-night Restaurant, ...................... “ S.A. Welles, 
bandiady of Cheap Lodging Rooms, ..............0.e00: “ N. Kneass. 


EXITS AND ENTRANCES 


R. Right; v. Left; r. D. Right Door; L. pv. Left Door; s. &. Second Entrance; vu. E. 
Upper Entrance, Centre Door. 


RELATIVE POSITIONS 
R. means Right; L. Left; c. Centre; r. c. Right of Centre; L. c. Left of Centre. 


EDITORIAL PREFACE TO Box AND Cox 


This piece was written in London, and played in this country, many years ago. 
After many “long runs” and enjoying great favour with the public in its primitive 
state, it -vas adapted to the Ethiopian Stage, for George Christy's company of Comed- 
ians, in this city, George himself enacting the part of Cox; while that of Box was 
performed by S. 4. Welles, for many years a prominent member of Christy’s, and 
other first class troupes. It is one of the very best Farces in the language, and abounds 
in all sorts of ludicrous situations, grotesque positions, and mirth-provoking dialogue. 
It is, moreover, peculiarly adapted to the wants of small companies, requiring 
but three persons to fill the parts; and in troupes where the Dramatis Persone cannot 
be furnished for a large two act Drama or Farce, this piece will be found “just the 
cheese’’—and especially when they cannot be spared in the Acts of a “second part” 
of a Minstrel performance. The two principal characters, Box and Cox, can be played 
by the “end or corner men” of any company—either travelling or located—and 
though they require some study to learn the business, &c., properly, and “get the 
fine points down,” once committed and performed with ordinary ability, it is bound 
to “make a hit.” 

| OE sO Se 


139 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!”, 


BOX AND COX 


[ScENE—A room poorly furnished—in the centre a bed with curtains 
closed—a table and a couple of chairs—a grate and chimney- 
piece. Cox, dressed with the exception of his coat, is looking at 
himself in a piece of looking-glass which he holds in his hand.| 


Cox: Well, I golly! Dat’s a nice lookin’ head to go to a ball wid! I 
went and gub dat darky free cents, jes to clip de dead ends off ob 
my har, and he’s gone and mowed it off like de wool off ob a black 
sheep in sharin’ time. Neber mind: I won’t go to de ball to-night, 
but den I must go to work dis mornin’, for I promised to hab dat 
whitewashin’ job finished to-day, sure, and dat ole gemblem’s mighty 
’tickeler. [Knock heard at the door.| Hollo! Who dat? Come in. 

[Enter AUNTY BOUNCER. ] 

Aunty B: Good mornin’, honey. I hope de skeeters or de bed- 
bugs didn’t bite you las’ night. Did you taste de sleep ob de bliss ob 
innocence, ehr 

Cox: Well, not zackly. Dat bolster on de bed might do for some 
niggers’ heads, but it won’t suit dis child! To use a highfalutin’ ’spres- 
sion, Mrs. B., it’s destitute ob feaders at each end, and ain’t got none 
in de middle. 

Aunty B: Well, de lord a massy child, I spose you must hab 
anoder—anyting to accommerdate yer. 

Cox: Tankee! Den jes’ be good enuf to hole dis glass till I finish 
my toilet. 

Aunty B: Sartin, honey. [Holds the glass while Cox ties his cravat.| 
Why bress my soul, honey! Who cut your har? 

Cox: Look here, old woman, jes’ please keep your obserwations 
to yourself! Can’t a gemblem git his har cut widout drawin’ forf re- 
marks from ebery consulting feminine darky dat he comes across? 
[Puts on bis coat.| Now for de hat. [Puts on his hat, which comes over his 

140 


A WORKING MODEL 


eyes.| Well, dar, dat darky didn’t take less dan a bushel ob wool 
off dis cocoanut! Dat hat yuster be too tight for me befo’ I got my 
har cut. Neber mind, I’se got two or free more. [Goes in, and returns 
with three more shocking bad hats, of every style and pattern, which he 
tries on one after the other, but they are all too big for him.| Now, ain’t 
dat too bad! Wot’s de use ob a gemblem habin’ half-a-dozen hats when 
he can’t wear any ob ’em? Neber mind, I guess I can make dis one do 
by puttin’ about five or six ole newspapers under de linin’ ob it. 
[Prepares a hat and puts it on his head.] And now I’m off. But befo’ I 
goes, ole woman, I’d jest like to draw your ’tention to de fact (widout 
any idee ob hurtin’ your feelins,) dat de last peck ob coal dat I brought 
home goes away amazin’ fast! 

Aunty B: De lord a massy, Mr. Cox! 

Cox: Yes, an’ it ain’t ony de coal—but dat two cent candle dat I 
bort free weeks ago, and a quarter pound ob sugar—de brown kind— 
and a box of locofoco matches—and a bottle of skeedam snaps wot I 
take for my cold—all dese tings hab got de consumption SEEN: bad, 
and is fallin’ away as fast as possible! 

Aunty B: Goodness sakes, Mr. Cox! I hope you doesn’t tink I’d 
steal yer fings, does yer? 

Cox: I don’t fink nuffin’ about it—I got nuffin’ to say about it. I 
didn’t say you stole de fings, but dar ain’t nobody but you and de cat 
in de house, and | wants yer to understand dat I don’t believe it’s de 
cat, dat’s what! 

Aunty B: | tink you’s mighty ’tickeler dis ebenin’. Can’t you find 
nuffin’ else to grumble about? 

Cox: I ain’t a-grumblin’—I don’t want to grumble—you neber 
heard me grumble in your life! But I should like to know who it am dat 
fills dis ere room full ob smoke while I’se away tendin’ to my occer- 
pation. 

Aunty B: Why, I spose de chimbley, de— 

Cox: Oh! now look here, old woman, you can’t come dat ober 

141 


i 7 ei oo oe 
y bis y ay 
J 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


me. Chimbleys don’t smoke pipes. It’s terbaccer smoke dat I smells. 
Does you smoke, aunty? : 

Aunty B: No, sir, pon my word and sacred honour! Ainer, mainer, 
moner might. Hope may never stir if I do! 

Cox: Well, den, what makes de smoker 

Aunty B: Well, I suppose it must be de—ah, de what you call— 
de ah— Yes, I guess dat’s wot it is. 

Cox: Well, I don’t know but wot dat am the reason, but it won’t 
do for me. I must hab anoder one. 

Aunty B: Well, den, I spose it must be de genblem in de attic; 
he’s all de time a-smokin’, and I spose de fluvium wot rises *bove the 
noxious fluids ob de atmosfear must cotch de smoke and fotch it down 
into de room. 

Cox: I spose dat must be de same coloured man dat I see comin’ 
up stars ebery time I go down? 

Aunty B: Why, yes; dat is, I— 

Cox: He’s a mighty gallus lookin’ nigger! Seems to me ebery 
time I meet him, as if he was a gwine to ax me, if I wanted anyting. 
I guess he must be a waiter. 

Aunty B: Well, I b’leve he is in dat bisiness, and he’s a mighty 
fine young man, too, at dat. 

Cox: Well, good mornin’, old woman. 

Aunty B: You'll be back at de time you always is, I spose? 

Cox: Yes, 9 o’clock. Don’t yer light my fire no more, does yer 
hear? I’ll do it myself. And don’t forgit de bolster; my head akes ebery 
time IJ tink ob it. [Ex7t L.] 

Aunty B: I golly, I’s glad he’s gone! I declar to goodness, | 
couldn’t hardly keep myself up, I was so ‘feared Mr. Box, de oder 
lodger, would come in ’fore he went out. It’s a lucky ting for me dat 
dey’ve neber met in dis room togeder yet; but I guess dar ain’t much 
danger ob it, for Mr. Box am away all night long to de i’ster cellar, 
and Cox am as busy as he can be all day whitewashin’: so Box sleeps 

142 


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WARP ARE WE -DASK INS St ox % e o, ££ 7 SINGERS WEDDING 

JIM EROW PULRA ¢ 3 < : ae Mv PRETTY VIRGINIA 

a + RAWEL: AOS ’ : be es : GONE tS ALABAMA 
Wy PREITY rab t ; od . i DEAR 

SMW) DRDP SAN ; 
Hae OF YS AS. 


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PRESIDING OVER HIS IDEALIZED TROUPERS 


TAL 


HE PARLE R some 
BATH 10 QLO vihwints 


* 


A WORKING MODEL 


in de daytime, and Cox sleeps in de nite-time, and by dis means I hire 
de room to bof ob em and git double pay for it, and dey am a couple 
ob knownuffins—dey don’t know nuffin’ about it. Now I must put 
Mr. Cox’s tings out ob Mr. Box’s way. [She takes the three hats and 
puts them away.| Now, den, | must put de key where Mr. Cox allers 
finds it. [Hangs the key on a nail.| Now, den, I must make de bed. 
When I makes it for Mr. Cox I puts de head to de foot, and when I 
makes it for Mr. Box I puts de foot to de hed. [Goes behind the curtain 
and seems to be making it, and then returns with an apology for a bolster 
in her hand.| De idee ob anybody grumblin’ at such a bolster as dat 
ar! I don’t know what folks want, for my part. [Disappears agatn be- 
bind the curtains.| 

Box [Without]: Look here, why don’t you keep your own side ob 
de star-case, sar? [Enters, and then puts his head out again, shouting 
apparently to somebody outside.| De nex’ time you run agin me comin’ 
up stars, you'll get butted, see if you don’t! Can’t you go down 
widout takin’ up bofe sides ob de stars at once? 

Aunty B [Coming from behind the curtains of the bed: Sakes alive! 
Mr. Box, what’s de matter wid you, ehr 

Box: You jes mind your own business, aunty, will your 

Aunty B: Goodness me! You’s in a great temper dis mornin’ 
bout somefin. Why, honey, you’s almost pale in de face. 
| Box: Dat’s kase I’s bin doin a pale business all nite—servin de 
customers wid pale brandy, and emptyin’ out pails of slops. I has to 
work mighty hard all night, I does. 

Aunty B: Yes, but den you has all day to rest in. 

Box [Looking significantly at Aunty B.|: Well, I oughter hab, 
dat’s a fac’, for I pays for it. So if you’s no dejections, I’ll just remark 
dat your presence is obnoxious to me—I wants to go to bed. 

Aunty B [Going]: De lord a massy, Mr. Box! 

Box: Stop! What coloured man is dat wot | allers meet goin’ 
down stars when I’s a-comin’ up, and comin’ up when I’s a-goin’ down? 

143 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Aunty B [Confused]: Oh, him—O, dat young gemblem—O, he’s 
de pusson—de man dat lodges in de attic, he is. 

Box: Oh, he is, eh? Well, I tink he’s a rader ord’nary lookin’ 
nigger, if it wasn’t for his hats. I meet him wid a different hat on most 
ebery day, and most all of em’s got whitewash on. I guess he must 
foller de whitewashin’ bisiness. 

Aunty B: Well, he does, child. And now I tink ob it, he inkwested 
me to tell you dat he wishes you wouldn’t smoke kwite so much, cos de 
fumes ob dat rank pipe ob yours flies up into de attic, and interferes 
wid his smellin’ propensities. 

Box: Did he? Well, den, you can tell de gemmen to cork up his 
nose or else git a room somewhar else! 

Aunty B [Pathetically]: Ah, now, Mr. Box, you don’t want for 
me to lose a lodger, does yer? 

Box: No, not ’ticklarly; but you ain’t a-gwine to put my pipe 
out, I tells yer dat. 

Aunty B: Well, Mr. Box, does yer want anyting more wid me? 

Box: No, mam! I’ve had too much of your company already. 
Vamoose! 

Aunty B: Well, I neber in all my born days! [Goes out muttering 
to herself and slamming the door after her.| 

Box: ’Stonishin’, de trubble I allers hab to git rid ob dat ole 
wench! She knows I’m up all night, and yet she sticks by me in de day- 
time, and won’t gib me no chance to sleep. Now lem me see; wonder if 
I better take a snooze ’fore I eat my breakfast, or take my breakfast 
before I eat a snooze—no, dat ain’t it ’zactly—shall I swaller my 
snooze—tut, tut, wot’s de matter wid dis ole hed? Neber mind, I’d 
got a bunch ob eels done up in a paper in my pocket, wot I bort at 
Caferine Market [Takes out eels and lays them on the table.| and a 
cent roll. Now de nex’ ting is to light a fire. Whar dem locofoco 
matches? [Looks on mantel-piece, takes a box, and opens it.| Now, 
ain’t dat too bad? I bort a hull box on’y free days ago, and now ebery 

144 


ae ell 
Ai Ss we 


A WORKING MODEL 


one on ’em’s gone but one! Dat ole wench steals ebery ting I lebe 
here. [Takes a potato candlestick off the mantel-piece in which there 1s a 
very small piece of candle, and looks at it.| Now look at dat candle! 
] neber burn no candle myself, but de candle goes! [Lights the fire 
and takes down a gridiron which is hanging over the fireplace.| Aunty 
Bouncer’s bin a-usin’ my gridiron! De las ting I cooked upon it was a 
porgie, and now it smells wery much like red herrins. [Places the grid- 
iron on the stove, and puts eels on to cook.| Well dar, I’se so sleepy I 
kin hardly keep my eyes opin. If I on’y had somebody to tend dese 
eels, I’d take a snooze. [Yawns.] I b’lieve I must take a little snooze 
anyhow. Maybe I’ll wake up in time to tend ’em. [Lies on the bed, 
drawing the curtains close. After a short pause, enter Cox burriedly.| 
Cox: Well, dar, I’d jes’ as soon a-tort ob bein’ struck by lightnin’, 
as gettin’ away from work to-day; but de ole gemman’s got trubble in 
de fam’ly—one ob de children is lyin’ at de point ob sickness wid de 
measles, and de child’s moder am troubled wid de newrology, or de 
tick-dollar-owe, I don’t ’zactly remember which, in de left shoulder 
blade, so de old gentlem sed I might put off de whitewashin’ for to- 
day, and take a holliday. Now, how shall I spend de time? I don’t 
know weder to go and dig for clams ober on Long Island, or to take 
a nickel’s wuf ob steamboat down to Staten Island, and fish off de 
dock. But I must have my breakfas’ fust, anyhow. I can’t go widout 
my breakfas’. I bort a lot of sassengers at de Dutch butcher’s and I 
guess I’ll cook ’em. [Lays sausages on the table.| 1 golly I forgot de 
bread! How’s I gwine to eat breakfas’ widout bread? Hello! wot dis? 
A roll! Well, dat’s lucky, anyhow! Now den, for de fire. Hello! 
[Seeing the match-box on the table.] Who bin touchin’ dem matches? 
Why de box am empty, and | left one in it a hour ago, I’se sartin! 
Well dar [observes the fire], de fire am lighted! Whar’s the gridiron! 
On de fire, by hookey! And wot dat on it? Eels! Well, now dat’s cool 
in Aunty Bouncer, dat is. She ain’t satisfied wid stealing all my per- 
visions, but she takes de last match to make a fire, and uses my grid- 
145 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


iron to cook her breakfas’ wid. I ain’t a gwine to stand dat, nohow! 
Come out ob dat. [Sezzes the eels and places them on the table, and then 
puts his sausages on the gridiron, which he puts on the fire.| Now den 
for my breakfas’ tings. [Takes key hung up, opens door, and goes out, 
slamming the door after him, with a loud noise, which bas the effect ‘ 
waking Box up]. 

Box [Suddenly showing bis head from behind the curtains|: Come 
in, if it’s you, Aunty. Bouncer, you needn’t be afraid. | wonder how 
long I’ve bin asleep! [Suddenly recollecting.] Hi, golly, de eels! [Leaps 
off the bed and runs to the fire-place.] Hello, wot dis! Sassengers! Whose 
sassengers, dat’s de question? Aunty. Bouncer’s, I’ll bet a hoss! If she 
tinks she’s a-goin’ to steal my matches and eberything else, and den 
cook her breakfast wid my fire, she’s mistaken, dat’s all. [Takes 
sausages off the gridiron and throws them out of the window.| So much 
for de ole woman’s breakfast and now for my own. [Puts the eels on 
the gridiron again.] | might as well fix de breakfast tings. [Goes to the 
mantel-piece, takes key off, and exit at R. slamming door after him.| 

Cox [Putting his head in quickly at L.|: Come in, come in! [Enters 
with an apology for a tray, with a few dilapidated pieces of crockery 
thereon, which he sets down and then suddenly recollects the sausages.| 
Hi! whah! de sassengers! [Running to the fire-place.] Hello! wot’s dis? 
Dem eels again! de debil! J isn’t gwine to stand dis nohow. [Takes 
up eels, throws them out of the window, crosses the stage to pick up bis 
tea-things which he had previously set down, and encounters Box coming 
from his cupboard with his tea-things. They walk down the centre of the 
stage together till they reach the foot lights, when Cox speaks.| Who is 
you, coloured man? 

Box: Dat’s jes de berry question I was gwine to ax you. Who is 
you, sar? 

Cox: Wot you want here, nigger, ehr 

Box: Dat’s jest what I was gwine to ax you, too—wot does you 
want? , 

146 


A WORKING MODEL 


Cox [Aside]: It’s de waiter [sets tea-things down]. 

Box [Aszde]: It’s de whitewasher [sets the tea-things down also]. ° 

Cox: Go to your attic whar yer belongs, nigger. 

Box: My attic? Gess you better say your attic! 

Cox: Waiter, lef my partment rite away—if you don’t, does yer 
see dat bunch ob bones? [Doubling up his fist.| 

Box: De nigger mus’ be crazy! Your apartment? Gess you must 
mean my apartment, you igmerant whitewasher. 

Cox: Your apartment! yah! yah! I like dat! Does yer see dat, nig- 
ger? [Produces a dirty paper from the leg of his boot after searching 
all bis pockets.] Dat’s a resweet for de last week’s rent. 

Box [Produces a similar paper and shakes it under Cox’s nose]: 
Well dar’s one ob de same tings, too. 

Cox [Suddenly shouting]: Fire! 

Box: Murder! 

BotH: Aunty Bouncer! [Each runs to the door calling. AUNTY 
BOUNCER runs in at door.| 

Aunty B: De lord a massy, gemmen, wot’s de matter wid you? 
[They both seize AUNTY by the arm and drag her forward.] 

Box: Aunty, turn dat whitewasher out right away. 

Cox: Luff dat waiter leabe dis ’stablishment, ’meejetly. 

Aunty B [Hesitating]: Say, look here, gemmen. 

Box: Wot you meanr [Pulling her back again.| Whose room am 
dis, dat’s wot I want to know. 

Cox: Yes, you bullet-head wench, whose room am dis? 

Box: Doesn’t dis room belong to mer 

Aunty B: No! 

Cox: Dar! does yer hear dat? It b’longs to me. 

Aunty B. [Sobbing]: No, to tell de truf, coloured men, it belongs 
to bofe ob you. 

Cox AND Box: Bofe of us? 

Aunty B: O, dear gemmen, you mustn’t get mad at me for doin’ 

147 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


de best I could. You see de fact is, dis gemman [pointing to Box] on’y 
bein at home in de day time, and dat gemman [pointing to Cox] in de 
night time, I tort | might take de priblege till de little garret bed- 
room was ready— 

Cox AND Box [Eagerly]: When will de garret bedroom be 
readyr 

Aunty B: Why, to-morrow, I s’pect. 

Cox:-Vll takea¢ 

Box: So will I. 

Aunty B: Why, gemmen, if you bofe take it, you might’s well 
stay whar you is. 

Box AND Cox: Dat’s a fact. 

Cox: I spoke fust anyhow. 

Box: Well, dar—dat’s enuf. You kin hab the garret bedroom— 
now lebe. 

Cox: Lebe! pooh, pooh, nigger. 

Aunty B: Now don’t kick up a plug muss, gemmen. You see dar 
yuster be a partition here. 

Cox AND Box: Den put it up. 

Aunty B: Neber mind—you hold on, and I’ll see if I can’t fix 
de garret bedroom dis bery day. So don’t fite. [Exit.] 
[Cox walks rapidly up and down the stage, while Box takes a seat by 

the table and watches him.| 

Cox: Nice business, dis ’ere. 

Box: Say, coloured man, wat you tryin’ to do, eh? Tryin’ to walk 
a fousand miles in a fousand hours? 

Cox: Brack man, you’s growin’ sassy! 

Box [Rising and advancing]: Is 1? Look here, whitewasher, I 
want to ax you one question—kin you fite? 

Cox> No! 

Box [Throwing himself in a fighting attitude]: Can’t yer? Well 
den, square yousef. 

148 


A WORKING MODEL 


Cox: Look here, wot’s de use ob our fightin’ I ain’t got nuffin’ 
agin you. 

Box: Neider hab I got anyfing agin you. 

Cox: Well den let’s make up. 

Box: Nuff sed—gib us yer claw. [They shake hands.] 

Cox: Does you sing, Mr. Box? 

Box: Why no—de gal wot I paid my devours to—wot | was 
gwine to marry—she didn’t like singing so I frowed my voice away 
and neber looked arter it since. 

Cox [Aside]: Dat’s berry strange! Jes ezacily de way wid me. 
[Aloud.] Look here, Box, wot was your gal’s name? 

Box: Penelope Ann Fergusson. 

Cox: Wot! dat yuster make 1’ster soup down by Caferine Market? 

Box: De same. 

Cox: Well, dat’s de berry same gal I was gwine to marry! 

Box: No! 

Cox: Yes! 

Box: Why didn’t you marry her? 

Cox: Case I got sick ob de bargain. Why didn’t you marry her? 

Box: For de berry same reason. | didn’t like her neither, but | 
got rid ob her by killin’ myself! 

Cox [Starting back]: Why you ain’t dead, is your 

Box [Solemnly]: Yes. Listen! Penelope Ann and me squirreled— 
I wanted a bowl ob clam soup on credit. She wouldn’t let me hab it 
—J] was a-bustin’ wid indignation, and I frew it at her in big chunks, 
she retorted by frowin’ a stew-pan at my head—I dodged the danger- 
ous piece of property, rushed from her presence burnin’ wid wengence, 
and made my way towards de ribber. 

Cox: Well, I tink dat was de best way to put yousef out, if you 
was burnin’! 

Box [Without heeding the interruption]: De nite was dark—dark 
as de despair which filled dis bozzom—but | rushed on widout tinkin’ 

149 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


whar I was a-goin’ till | tumbled ober a tar-barrel dat was lyin’ on de 
worf, and nearly broke my shin. Smartin’ wid de pain, I picked my- 
sef up, rushed to de edge ob de dock—took off my coat and laid it 
down carful, den took off my hat and laid dat down carful—den I tried 
to think ob a prayer, but couldn’t remember none—den I stooped ober 
to make de fatal plunge—grabbed hold ob my hat, put it onto my 
head and made tracks for home as fas’ as possible. I took good car 
to lebe a letter in my pocket ‘dressed to Penelope Ann, tellin’ her dat 
I’d killed myself for her, and now she tinks me dead. And I’se so 
glad you’se a-gwine to marry her. 

Cox: Me! I isn’t a-gwine to marry her. I isn’t got nuffin’ to do 
wid her, she’s yours. 

Box: O, go long. How’s she gwine to marry a dead manp I tell 
yer she’s yours, and she’s gwine to be here arter you by ten o’clock— 
Aunty Bouncer told me so. 

Cox: Ten o’clock! [Both pull out tin watches of huge dimensions.| 
It on’y wants quarter ob an inch ob ten now. [A knock at the door.| 
Golly, dar she is, let’s stand against de door. [They place their backs 
against the door.| 

Aunty B. [Without, and knocking]: Mr. Cox! Mr. Cox! 

Cox: I’b jest gone round de corner. 

Box: So hab I. 

Aunty B. Mr. Cox! [Pushes at the door, which Box and Cox re- 
double their efforts to keep closed.| Open de do’! It’s on’y Aunty Bouncer! 

Cox: Is you shur dar ain’t anybody dar wid you? 

Aunty B: Nobody ’tall—let me in. [They admit her cautiously.] 
Gentlemen, I’ze got some news for you. Penelope Ann Fergusson am 
married to Mr. Knox de boot black. [Exit.] 

Cox [In bis excess of joy butting bis head against the side scenes]: 
Hurror! hurror! O, ain’t I glad! 


Box: Free cheers for Knox! Yah! yah! yah! [They both dance 


around the stage.| 
150 


DAN BRYANT AND CooL BURGESS 


‘ 


MSt 


eave 


anner Hn 


Masters of the Grand M 


A WORKING MODEL 


Aunty B [Poking in her head]: Gemmen, de garret bedroom’s 


ready. 


Cox AND Box: We don’t want it, we’ll keep de room we’ve got 


togeder. 


[Cox zs about to embrace Box when he stops suddenly, seizes him by the 
hand and looks eagerly in his face.| 


SOx: 


Excuse me, Box, but de more I gaze on dose features, de 


more I tink you is my long-lost brudder! 


Box: 


Cox 
left arm? 


Box: 
ok: 
Box: 
Cox: 
Box: 
ox 


Dat’s jes wot I was gwine to say mysef. 
[Eagerly]: Tell me, has you got a clam shell mark on your 


No! 

Neider had my brudder! And on your breast—_ 

Is a mole! 

Ha! ha! My mole-marked brudder. But no— 

He doubts. [Tears open vest.| B-e-h-o-l-d! 

*Tis dar indeedy. Base fears begone! Ha! ha! Come to my 


arms, ha! ha! 
[Both rush into each other’s arms c—AUNTY BOUNCER enters R. D. 
surprised] 


151 


ee 


=A 


VIII. MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


New York has always been, as it still is, the centre of the show 
business, and it produced its full share of resident minstrel troupes. But 
Philadelphia also was a prominent show-producing town in the old 
days, and boasted a permanent home of minstrelsy, the Eleventh 
Street Opera House, which lasted many years longer than any of New 
York’s headquarters for black-face entertainment. In the normal order 
of consideration, however, New York comes first 


THE OLD-TIME RIALTO 


Broadway then, as now, was the actor’s stamping ground, except 
that its lower end was nearly two miles farther south than at present. 
That minstrelsy monopolized the efforts of a great many actors is 
shown by the records of the theatres housing black-face shows. 

At 472 Broadway (between Grand and Broome streets) was 
located the most famous home of minstrelsy in the city, Mechanics 
Hall. Here Bryant’s Minstrels, conducted by the Bryant brothers, 
Dan and Jerry, played continuously for more than nine years, from 
February 23, 1857, to June 2, 1806. 

After seven or eight months’ engagement in San Francisco, under 
the management of Tom Maguire, they returned to New York in 
May, 1868, and played nearly two years in a house later known as the 
Olympic Theatre. The last home of Bryant’s Minstrels was in Twenty- 
third Street near Sixth Avenue, where they opened November 23, 1870, 
and continued until Dan Bryant’s death in 1875. The record of about 
sixteen years in New York would be a significant one for any 
stock company. After the death of Dan Bryant, Neil Bryant carried 
on with the show for some years more. 

155 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Another of the old-time minstrel houses was Wood’s Minstrel 
Hall, at 514 Broadway (near Broome Street). Wood and Fellowes’ 
Minstrels were one of the first troupes in the New York field, their 
show opening in 1851 at 444 Broadway. Henry Wood allied himself 
with George Christy later, and played at 444 until the theatre burned 
in 1854. Then they moved up to 472 Broadway. For a time they ran 
two shows simultaneously, the theatre at 444 having been reopened. 
In 1857, they moved to the Marble Palace, 561-563 Broadway, where 
they remained for two years. Wood returned alone to 444, and there 
conducted minstrel shows for another three years. Another move took 
the company to Wood’s Minstrel Hall, where it flourished until 1866. 
Fifteen years was Wood’s record of dispensing minstrelsy as a steady 
diet to the theatregoers of the metropolis. 

(Henry Wood, incidentally, was the brother of Fernando Wood, 
Mayor of New York during part of the Civil War years.) 

The early records show also that George Christy’s Minstrels held 
forth at Niblo’s Saloon in April of 1860. In the list of players is the 
name of W. Arlington, later to become famous as 
Billy Arlington, heading his own company, and also 
at one time a member of Billy Emerson’s troupe, and 
associated with Leon, Kelly, Donniker, Cotton, and 
other outstanding minstrels. 

The San Francisco Minstrels, originated by the 
famous quartet, Birch, Wambold, Bernard, and 
Backus (with Bernard later dropped from the firm), 
were for a long time residents of New York. Their 
location in 1865 was at 585 Broadway, which is de- 
scribed in the bills as being “‘opposite the St. Nich- 
olas Hotel.’”’ Another bill, dated 1866, shows the San 
Franciscans still at the same theatre. 

; In the oldest playbills, 720 Broadway is shown 
Bitty Birch as _ the uptown limit of the theatre district. Here 
156 


§ 
a 
/ 
“ 
: 
4 
= 


MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


stood the Waverly Theatre, near Wav- 
erly Place, where Kelly and Leon’s 
Minstrels played a long engagement in 
the early ’70’s. 

A few years later, the Rialto had 
been extended as far north as Twenty- 
third Street, with Bryant’s Minstrels as 
the pioneers. In 1872, it had travelled 
five squares more, to Twenty-eighth 
Street, the new home of the San Fran- 
cisco Minstrels. 

The Palace of Music was occupied 
in 1862 by Campbell’s Minstrels. It 
was on Fourteenth Street near Sixth ee 
Avenue, where it still stands, now CHORGES HR Isl 
known as the Fourteenth Street Theatre. Campbell’s troupe stayed 
in this house for more than two years, then played at the People’s 
Theatre for a year or two, and finally went under the R. M. Hooley 
banner. 

By 1872, the theatre at 585 Broadway was called White’s Athe- 
nzum, and was occupied by White’s Minstrels. In the White Company 
were included such great favourites as Luke Schoolcraft and George 
E. Coes (who later headed minstrel troupes of their own) and the 
banjoist and singer, J. K. Campbell. 

Charles T. White had first ventured into the minstrel field in New 
York when he established a theatre at 53 Bowery. He was burned out 
twice, but rebuilt each time. In 1854, he opened another theatre at 
49 Bowery, and devoted it also to minstrelsy. Prices of admission were 
61 and 12% cents! It was after his third fire on the Bowery that White 
finally moved to 585 Broadway. 

Three big companies of minstrels were going at full blast in New 
York early in 1872, and toward the close of the year the number be- 

157 


erg ‘OER se 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


came four, with the advent of Emerson’s California Minstrels, vu 
Maguire and Billy Emerson, Props. and Managers.” 

A playbill dated March 12, 1877, shows the San Francisco Nene 
strels still in New York at the corner of Twenty-ninth Street and 


Broadway. In this bill are several famous names, besides those of . 


Birch, Wambold, and Backus. The arrangement of the overture is 
credited to W. S. Mullaly, known in the show shops and in the music 
publishing houses of New York for many years as ‘one. of the most ac- 
complished leaders and composers of the city. 

H. W. Frillman, a famous bass singer, 1s in the list, as is the bal- 
ladist, W. H. Hamilton. Bob Hart is featured as a comedy lecturer, 
and there is also the announcement of “‘the greatest of baniGeras 
E. M. Hall. (See p. 32.) 

A playbill of Bryant’s Opera House, dated June 27, 1874, an- 
nounces a complimentary benefit to Nelse Seymour and Bob Hart, 
and the appearance in conjunction with Bryant’s Minstrels of three 
star performers, Eph Horn, Charley White, and G. F. Browne. 

Other minstrel artists of note taking part in the benefit were Dave 
Reed and the monologuist, Unsworth, billed as ne Black Demos- 
thenes.”’ 

Another Bryant bill carries the note that The Mulligan Guard will 
be played by Bryant’s band, “‘by permission of Harrigan and Hart.” 
This famous song, written in 1873, is said to have “‘practically dis- 
rupted the amateur military organizations that had sprung up after 
the Civil War for purposes of politics or conviviality.” 

But the days of the continuous runs of minstrel shows were num- 
bered, though several attempts were made in later years to establish 
a permanent home for minstrelsy in New York. The most successful 
of these was made by Lew Dockstader in 1886. For more than three 
years he held forth on Broadway, surrounded at all times by the 
brightest stars of the minstrel heaven, and the run was interrupted 
only by a cross-country tour to California. 

158 


THE SONG THAT MaApbE HARRIGAN AND Hart [IRISH 


Res: 


MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


The ’70’s and ’80’s saw the organization of the great touring com- 
panies, each of which, however, appeared in New York for a few 
weeks or perhaps longer, as the metropolitan endorsement was thought 
necessary, as it is now, before a company took to the road. 

Variety, afterward called vaudeville, and musical comedy, began 
to have their innings, with the resulting curtailment of business for 
the straight minstrel show. The fact that actual females appeared in 
the musical shows created a competition that was fatal to the “all- 
man” performances of the minstrels. What chance did they have 
against the beauty, charm, and cleverness of Lillian Russell, or the 
snap, sauciness, and singing ability of Della Fox? Eventually came 
“The Black Crook,” with chorus girls in tights, and New York’s 
minstrel business abjectly gave up the ghost. 


MINSTRELSY IN PHILADELPHIA 


Sam S. Sanford built the first theatre in Philadelphia for the ex- 
clusive use of a minstrel show at Twelfth and Chestnut streets in 
August, 1853, and it was destroyed by fire the following December. 

In April, 1855, Sanford’s Minstrels opened at the Eleventh Street 
Opera House, and continued there until the spring of 1862. Sanford 
was one of the most famous minstrels of his day, and a pioneer in the 
business. He subsequently had other theatres in Philadelphia and one 
in Harrisburg, Pa., besides his interest in several travelling minstrel 
troupes. 

Cool White was one of the star performers who marched under 
the Sanford banner for more than four years. 

Bob Shepherd, another pioneer manager, opened a concert hall 
in the Quaker City, in 1856, and gave a variety show in which black- 
face artists played prominent parts. 

Philadelphia’s leading minstrel manager, however, was John L. 
Carncross, he of the fine tenor voice. He first appeared in Philadelphia, 
the city of his birth, with Sanford’s company, in 1858, and continued 

159 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


with that organization for two years. In 1860, with Sam Sharpley, he 
organized Carncross and Sharpley’s Minstrels and opened at the 
Continental Theatre, which was on the site of the present Casino. 
In 1862, the Carncross and Dixey Minstrels opened at the same house 
and played there for nine years. 
Both Carncross and Dixey re- 
tired several times, and in 1878 
Dixey made his farewell final. 
But Carncross’s Minstrels held 
on for eighteen more years, un- 
til January 25, 1896, when the 
veteran manager decided to 
call it a career. One of the 
young composers who wrote 
songs for Carncross and Dixey 
was John Philip Sousa. 

Frank Dumont, who had 
long been a member of the 
Carncross company, eventu- 
ally took charge of the famous 
Eleventh Street Opera House, whose record of continuous minstrelsy 
will probably stand forever unbeaten in this country. 

The versatile Dumont was the minstrel model of the man who “‘in 
his time plays many parts.’’ His first effort in black-face was as a bal- 
lad singer, when still a boy, with Arlington and Donniker’s Minstrels. 
Later, he was with several companies as both performer and manager. 
For eleven years, he travelled with Duprez and Benedict’s Minstrels, 
one of the most successful companies that ever took to the road. He 
sang with the San Francisco Minstrels in New York, and with Lew 
Dockstader’s company. He was with Sweatnam’s Minstrels in 1879, 
also as a balladist. 


Minstrelsy is indebted to him for innumerable songs, sketches, and 
160° 


SAM SHARPLEY 


a a 


MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


burlesques, a great many of which were produced by him with Carn- 
cross in Philadelphia, and later, when the theatre was under his own 
management. He was also a prolific contributor to the dramatic papers, 
particularly the New York Clipper, and was considered an authority 
on all matters pertaining to his profession. 

Practically every minstrel man of note appeared at some time in 
Philadelphia’s Eleventh Street Opera House. 

E. N. Slocum, an interlocutor and actor of note, in association 
with Lew Simmons, opened a theatre in Philadelphia, the Arch Street 
Opera House, in 1870. This partnership continued for about seven 
years. In 1875, Willis P. Sweatnam joined the firm, and the next 
year Simmons and Slocum withdrew, and the company became 
Sweatnam’s Minstrels. In 1886, however, Simmons and Slocum’s 
Minstrels again occupied their old home in Philadelphia, with a re- 
vival of their former successes, while Sweatnam continued independ- 
ently as actor and manager. 


MINSTRELSY IN SAN FRANCISCO 


In common with thousands of other adventurous spirits, the min- 
strel men started for the Pacific coast shortly after gold was discovered 
near Sutter’s Mill, California. Perhaps the news had percolated 
to the East that a scratch company of minstrels was playing out there 
to “S.R.O.” at five dollars a head. 

In the minstrel record of San Francisco the name of Tom Maguire 
looms large. In 1850, he built the Jenny Lind Theatre, in which many 
stars appeared, until it was destroyed by fire. 

Maguire brought George Christy and his company to San Fran- 
cisco in 1858. It was Maguire who took Billy Emerson to the coast 
town in 1870, made him a partner, and called the company Emerson’s 
California Minstrels, playing at Maguire’s Opera House and later at 
the Alhambra on Bush Street. Previous to this he managed Birch, 


Wells & Soighter’s Band in San Francisco for six years. 
161 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Maguire was also associated with R. H. Hooley and with “Colo- 


nel Jack’”’ Haverly in later minstrel ventures. 

Though the laurels that crowned the San Francisco Minstrels 
were mainly gathered in New York, the celebrated trio of Birch, 
Wambold, and Backus organized their company in San Francisco in 
1864 and played there for nearly a year. 

The Birch and Cotton Minstrels were organized in the same city 
in 1862. In 1886, these reunited old-timers played once more in the city 
that saw their first appearance. 


THE GREAT EMERSON 


To San Franciscans of the ’7o’s and ’80’s, a minstrel show with- 
out Billy Emerson would have been ‘‘Hamlet” without the Danish 
Prince. 

One writer on minstrelsy speaks of Emerson as “‘standing ab- 
solutely alone in his chosen profession; never before his advent had his 
equal been seen, nor will we ever again. The acme of versatility, the 
personification of grace, gifted with a voice an opera singer might 
have envied, and endowed with talents that are seldom given to 
man.” 

Another writer calls Emerson ‘‘No doubt the best minstrel that 
ever lived! Others could do things better than Emerson could; for 
instance, he was never so funny as Billy Manning, he could never do 
work just like Billy Sweatnam’s, nor were his stump speeches as good 
as Billy Rice’s, or even Hughie Dougherty’s; but still he could do 
something of everything. As an end man and dancer he never had a 
superior and few equals, and who will ever forget his beautiful nat- 
ural, rich, pathetic tenor voice?”’ 

Billy Emerson carried such songs as Love Among the Roses, The 
Yaller Gal That Looked at Me, Tassels on Her Boots, Mary Kelly’s Beau, 
and Moriarity around the world. He made everybody laugh with joy 
when he sang: 

162 


“4 
a } 
ra 


6 i ne ee ee ee 


Bitty EMERSON, posing for his photographer and his “Big Sunflower” public 


iy 


MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


“Ob, I feel just as happy as a big sunflower, 
That nods and bends in the breezes; 
For my heart is as light as the wind that blows 
The leaves from off the treeses.”’ 


Emerson’s first professional appearance was made with Joe 
Sweeney’s Minstrels about 1850. He played the music halls for a 
number of years, and in 1864 was with Sanderson’s Minstrels. In 
1866, he made his first New York appearance at Pastor’s Theatre. 
In 1868, Emerson, Allen, and Manning’s Minstrels gave their initial 
performance in Brooklyn. Allen and Manning withdrew later, and in 
1870 the first performance of Emerson’s Minstrels was given. In 
November of the same year came the partnership with Maguire and 
the beginning of Emerson’s great popularity in San Francisco. 

Emerson made three trips to the Antipodes, the first in 1873, when 
he and his company scored a great success in Melbourne, Sidney, and 
other Australian cities. 

Associated with him in San Francisco and his Australian trips 
at various times were many of the greatest men in the minstrel busi- 
ness, among them Bob Hart, Sweatnam, Lew Simmons, Kelly and 
Leon, Little Mac, ‘“‘Add”’ Ryman, Carroll Johnson, Chauncey Olcott, 
Charlie Reed, and others. Reed was his partner also in the Standard 
Theatre, where three years of his career were spent. 

Emerson made several fortunes, but poker, faro, the stock market, 
and the ponies took most of his money away from him. 

He was with Hooley’s Megatharian Minstrels for a season, and 
with Haverly’s Minstrels when they opened in London in 1880. In 
1888, he was in partnership with McNish, Johnson, and Slavin, re- 
turning later to San Francisco with his own company. 

Emerson’s career came to a close with his engagement by Wm. H. 
West’s Minstrels. He died in Boston, February 22, 1902, and his body 
was taken to his beloved San Francisco, where it was cremated. His 

163 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


ashes rest in the Odd Fellows Cemetery, marked with a brass plate 
inscribed simply “William Emerson Redmond, 1846-1902.” 

The Howard Atheneum was for many years the home of min- 
strelsy in Boston. There the Morris Brothers, Lon and Billy, in con- 
junction with John Pell and J. T. Trowbridge, began to entertain the 
intellectuals in December, 1857. 

Pell later died and Trowbridge retired from the business, but the 
Morris Brothers continued their activities in Boston and on the road. 
Charles Morris, another brother, was associated with the firm for a 
time, and later conducted a company of his own. 


_ MINSTRELSY IN BROOKLYN 


The name that stands out most prominently in connection with 
Brooklyn minstrelsy is that of Richard M. Hooley, he of the magnifi- 
cent whiskers. All of his adult life he was associated with the best in 
the business, and he lived to be seventy-one. Born in Ireland, he 
left his home in 1844, and the next year was with E. P. Christy as 
leader. 

In 1854, he organized a company with which he went to Europe 
and played in many of the Continental cities. During the ’50’s he was 
associated with the California manager, Maguire, in the management 
of George Christy’s Minstrels. In 1861, he opened his famous minstrel 
hall in Brooklyn, and continued there for a number of years. About 
the same time, he ran a minstrel show in Philadelphia, and a little later 
he had still another show in Brooklyn. When this theatre was de- 
stroyed by fire, he put on a minstrel show at 201 Bowery, New York. 
In 1871, he invaded Chicago with a minstrel troupe and opened at a 
theatre later known as the Grand Opera House. After the big Chicago 
fire, Hooley built what was later known as Power’s Theatre, and there 
his minstrel show flourished for about three years. 

Following a road tour and the Brooklyn début of Rice and 
Hooley’s Minstrels (with Billy Rice, the famous stump speaker, as his 

164. 


MINSTREL PRODUCING CENTRES 


partner), the minstrel impresario again went to 
Chicago with a company which occupied the 
Novelty Theatre for two years. 

Other companies of ability and reputation 
tried at various times to become permanent in- 
stitutions in Brooklyn; but none had the success 
that attended the Hooley organization. 


MINSTRELSY IN CHICAGO 


The greatest name in minstrel management, 
however, in this country or anywhere else, is un- 
doubtedly that of J. H. ‘Col. Jack”) Haverly. 
Chicago saw the inception of his most famous or- 
ganization, Haverly’s Mastodon Muinstrels, the 
“Forty, Count Em! Forty!” troupe, and he also occupied this field 
after Hooley had left it virtually undisputed by any manager. 

Haverly had been associated with other men in the management 
of minstrel troupes for twenty-four years before he organized the 
Mastodons. 

His first venture was a variety house in Toledo, Ohio, and he as- 
sumed the management of Cal Wagner’s Minstrels in 1870, but before 
this date he had managed Billy Arlington’s Minstrels. 

In 1873, Haverly’s Minstrels took the road. One minstrel show 
was not enough for this energetic manager, for he in turn secured an 
interest in Tom Maguire’s troupe, the Emerson Minstrels, gained 
control of the New Orleans Minstrels in 1876, and of Callender’s 
Coloured Minstrels the year following. 

In the meantime, he had bought the Adelphi Theatre in Chicago, 
the first of many that he ultimately owned or controlled. 

Two years after the organization of the Mastodons, Haverly 
took them to London and played seventeen weeks at Her Majesty’s 
Theatre, afterward touring the British Isles. 

105 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


At this time, the apex of Haverly’s prosperity, he invaded Ger- 
many with his mastodonic organization and, in the words of Brander 
Matthews, ‘‘one result of his visit was probably still further to confuse 
the Teutonic misinformation about the American type, which seems 
often to be a curious composite photograph of the red men of Cooper, 
the black men of Mrs. Stowe, and the white men of Mark Twain 
and Bret Harte. It was reported at the time that another and more 
immediate result of this rash foray beyond the confines of the English- 
speaking race was that Haverly for a while was in danger of arrest by 
the police for the fraudulent attempt to deceive the German public, 
because he was pretending to present a company of negro minstrels, 
whereas his performers were actually white men.” _~ 

Haverly’s shows, sumptuously mounted and boasting the best 
known names in the profession, set a high mark for his competitors. 
But although he made a great deal of money in the course of his career, 
and was considered one of the best managers minstrelsy ever had, the 
end of his life found him in poverty, his last efforts in the show business 
having to do with a small museum in Brooklyn. He died in Salt Lake 
City, September 28, 1901. 


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IX. SOME OF THE ROAD SHOWS 


HERE the name of Al G. Field heads all the rest. Minstrel shows 
equipped with stars who have loomed larger in the bills, shows with 
tremendously impressive names, shows claiming the ultimate in 
minstrelsy have come and gone; but the organization known as Al G. 
Field’s Minstrels has kept plugging away continuously from the 
year 1886 to the present. Though Field is no longer living, the big 
bills still carry his picture, captioned ‘‘The Dean of Minstrelsy,” 
and every year the company is welcomed in the towns of the South and 
the middle East. 

Field was known as the “Millionaire Minstrel,” indicating that 
he was a better business man than the average in his profession. He 
was also a very good performer, especially in monologues. His business 
experience was wide, for he not only filled executive positions with 
the Sells Circus, but was also associated with Duprez and Benedict’s 
Minstrels, and Duprez was one of the cleverest business men in min- 
strelsy, a genius at advertising. It is claimed that Field was the first 
minstrel manager to carry entire stage settings and scenery, and also 
the first to build and operate a special train of cars for the accommoda- 
tion of his troupe. 

The company bearing his name was incorporated in 1910. A great 
many of the best-known performers were with the Field show at one 
time or other, among them Neil O’Brien, Eddie Fox, composer of 
The Big Sunflower, and Press Eldridge, one of the noted monologue 
artists of vaudeville. Eddie Cantor also served a black-face apprentice- 
ship with Field’s company. 


1Since these lines were written, the last of the Field minstrel shows closed pathetically in Cincinnati. 


169 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Hiram Patrick Henry wisely shortened his name to Hi Henry 
and became known as a good showman, as well as one of the best cor- 
nettists in the business. Hi Henry’s Minstrels rambled from one end 
ot the country to the other, visiting small towns and odd corners for 
a period of thirty years. 

Hi himself was one of the big cards of his show. After the com- 
pany had “‘made the parade,” and stopped before the local hotel or 
theatre, Hi would electrify the crowd by “‘tripple-tonguing” a few 
tunes on his silver cornet, and the effect on the box-office was im- 
mediately evident. 

A minstrel who headed a troupe which ran neck and neck with Hi 
Henry’s in the race for popularity was “Happy” Cal Wagner. His 
Christian name was Calvin, but he easily sidestepped its connotation 
of strict and unbending religion. Cal was under the wing of Colonel 
Jack Haverly for a time, and was also associated with Ben Cotton in 
management, but through most of his show career he played a lone 
hand. 

One of the biggest organizations of minstrels that ever took the 
road was that of Barlow, Wilson, Primrose, and West. All four of 
these men were performers of the first rank, each with a specialty of 
his own. Milt Barlow was noted for his faithful delineation of the old 
Southern darky; George Wilson was an eccentric low comedian and 
monologuist; Primrose was a singer, and one of the most graceful 
dancers that ever appeared in black-face; and Wm. H. West was a 
great clog dancer and show producer. | 

Primrose and West were partners for nearly thirty years. Their 
association with George Thatcher was also notable in its results, and 
after this alliance was ended, the Primrose and West Minstrels con- 
tinued independently for more than nine years. At one time they 
had two companies on the road, Primrose heading one show and West 
the other. The long partnership came to an end in 1898. Then Prim- 
rose teamed with Dockstader as a partner for about four years, and 

170 


, IAMLSNIJY AMIVNOITII,, FHL GNV YALLIP-HONIQ ,.S,AOG AANOH,, 


‘ 


CL baton) ae Lyi MOOOHOLIH GNOWAVA 


— 


SOME OF THE ROAD SHOWS 


later headed another organization of his own, with occasional appear- 
ances in vaudeville. 

George Wilson was one of the funniest comedians and monologue 
artists the minstrel stage ever saw, and, curiously enough, he was an 
Englishman by birth, though it seemed to be the very essence of 
American humour that he handed over the footlights. He came to this 
country early in life and appeared as a minstrel in San Francisco in 
the ’60’s. 

He attracted the attention of Haverly, and was with the “Forty, 
Count ’Em! Forty!” show for four years; then came his association 
with Barlow, Primrose, and West. Later, he and Barlow had a show, 
then Rankin became a partner, and finally George Wilson’s Minstrels 
appeared and held the road for four years. He was with the Primrose 
and West show for five years more, and eventually appeared in vaude- 
ville. Altogether, Wilson had one of the longest and most successful 
careers of any man in the history of black-face. 

Long after the “‘Big Four” of minstrelsy came the “Big Three,” 
Thatcher, Primrose, and West. George Thatcher’s first important 
engagement was with Tony Pastor in New York. Then he went to 
Philadelphia as a member of the company headed by another Big 
Three, Simmons, Slocum, and Sweatnam. Then came three years 
with the San Francisco Minstrels in New York. A singer and a dancer, 
he claims to have been the first to introduce gags between the verses 
of his songs, a custom that many an entertainer adopted later. He was 
also famous as a monologue artist. 

His first venture as a manager was with Ryman in Philadelphia, 
and shortly afterward George Thatcher’s Minstrels played at the 
Arch Street Opera House in the same city. Thatcher joined forces 
with Primrose and West in 1882, and for seven years the Big Three 
toured the country with elaborate shows and a splendid array of 
black-face artists. 

Thatcher’s Minstrels took the road in 1890, and in three suc- 

171 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


cessive seasons he produced “Tuxedo,” ‘‘Africa,” and ‘‘ About 
Gotham,” all gorgeously mounted and widely popular. 

George Thatcher played many vaudeville engagements singly 
and in association with other performers. A most capable actor, as 
well as a song, dance, and monologue artist, he appeared also as a 
negro character delineator in two legitimate plays, ““The County 
Chairman” and ‘Cameo Kirby.” 

Duprez and Benedict’s Minstrels lasted for twenty years as a road 
attraction, although Benedict himself was a partner for only eleven 
years of that time. Charles H. Duprez has been mentioned as a busi- 
ness man of great astuteness. He had a Frenchman’s talent for econ- 
omy; he was a Parisian by birth, and he knew the value of advertising 
for attracting patronage. 

At one time he possessed two Dalmatian coach dogs, then a rare 
breed in this country (covered with black spots on a white ground), 
and, with banners announcing Duprez and Benedict’s Minstrels 
spread over them, they would walk the streets as a ballyhoo for the 
show. One of the stock sayings of the road was that Duprez wouldn’t 
give anyone even a spot off one of his dogs. 

The Arnold Brothers, at first two, Billy and Amos, joined later 
by another brother, Frank, were with the Haverly Mastodon Min- 
strels in Chicago, later with Hooley, and finally with Hooley and 
Rice. Billy Arnold’s own minstrels were on the road for a number of 
years and gave a good show, for Billy was an unctuous comedian, 
and his “Billy’s Dream” always scored. He was also the acknowl- 
edged tambourine champion of minstrelsy, and he always added ex- 
citement to the conclusion of the first part by spinning two tambou- 
rines at once. 

M. B. Leavitt’s name for many years was one of the best known in 
the show business. He was associated with both the stage and the 
business ends, and his affiliations were with many branches of en- 
tertainment such as Mme. Rentz’s Female Minstrels, which subse- 

172 ! 


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SOME OF THE ROAD SHOWS 


quently developed into the Rentz-Santley Burlesque troupe. He sent 
out a number of companies of Leavitt’s Minstrels, among them Lea- 
vitt’s ““Gigantean” Minstrels, and a number of extravaganza com- 
panies, notably ““The Twelve Temptations’’ and ‘“‘The Spider and 
the Fly.” Leavitt was also the author of a book on show business which 
is a mine of information. 

McNish, Johnson, and Slavin headed a company that hopped 
into the minstrel arena in 1885 and stayed there for more than three 
years. 

Frank McNish originated the act known as “‘silence and fun,” 
which dozens of performers with some pantomimic ability have copied 
since. 

He served a long apprenticeship in minstrelsy before he became 
a proprietor. His earlier bosses included Al G. Field, Hi Henry, and 
Thatcher, Primrose, and West. 

McNish was a nimble-footed dancer and could also sing, usually 
crediting this ability to his experience as a plumber. 

Bob Slavin died at the age of thirty-nine, and minstrelsy lost a 
rare comedian. He was a great wit and an all-around entertainer, ap- 
pearing with unqualified success in the Haverly show and with Emer- 
son in San Francisco. He was also a member of the Howard Athe- 
neum Company and the May Russell Burlesque Company. One 
of his last engagements was with Wm. Henry Rice’s World’s Fair 
Minstrels. 

Sam Devere, banjoist extraordinary, won his popularity chiefly 
through a famous ditty, The Whistling Coon, in which the audience 
always joined. Starting in Brooklyn, going to Europe with Haverly, 
and playing other variety and minstrel dates, he finally toured with 
his own company in 1890, and though he played his last banjo solo in 
1898, a company remained on the road with his name for a number of 
years afterward. 

Though Wm. S. Cleveland wound up his career as a booker of 

173 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


smalltime vaudeville acts, he was at 
one time a power in minstrelsy. He 
occupied managerial positions with 
McNish, Johnson, and Slavin, and 
became Haverly’s partner in one of 
his ventures. About 1890, Cleveland 
had his own organization, known as 
Cleveland’s Minstrels, and at times 
several companies bore his name. 


Vogel crowned himself ‘Minstrel 
King.”” He had managed a number 
of the big troupes, and was reckoned 
one of the best executives in the busi- 
ness. Vogel’s Big City Minstrels 
toured for more than fourteen years. He also managed Al G. Field’s 
show for seven years, and owned and managed the Afro-American 
Mastodon Minstrels and ‘‘ Darkest Africa,’’ both companies of coloured 
performers. | | 

Cohan and Harris launched a big minstrel show in 1908, when the 
“Forty, Count ’Em! Forty!” slogan was discounted. They combed 
Broadway for talent, and found plenty of it, though it is a question 
whether the box-office ever justified the amount paid in salaries. At all 
events, the show did not break any records on the road. Later, how- 
ever, George (“Honey Boy’’) Evans bought the show and reaped a 
small fortune from it.-It was in this company that Raymond Hitch- 
cock substituted temporarily for Evans, imitating even his make- 
up. (See pictures facing pp.170 and 230.) a 

The Gorman Brothers, James, John, and George, ran a minstrel 
show bearing their name for six seasons, from 1898 to 1904. They also 
appeared in white-face in various comedies, one of them being Marie 
Dressler’s “‘Tilly’s Nightmare.” . i 
174 


SAM DEVERE 


After Haverly’s death, John W. 


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SOME OF THE ROAD SHOWS 


“‘NOT COLOURED, BUT BORN THAT WAY” 


Actual negro performers began to come into the minstrel busi- 
ness in the early ’70’s. One of the first organizations of coloured min- 
strels was Callender’s. The dean of the theatrical profession, Daniel 
Frohman, became their agent in 1874, and his brothers, Gustave and 
Charles, became the proprietors of the show in 1882. Charles Frohman 
was thus interested in minstrelsy long before he became America’s 
leading producer of legitimate drama. 

He was also advance man and treasurer of Haverly’s Mastodon 
Minstrels at their inception in Chicago, and subsequently became 
Haverly’s manager, continuing in this position until he and his brother 
Gustave took charge of Callender’s Minstrels.! Richards and Pringle’s 
Georgia Minstrels were another popular coloured troupe that toured 
for years. It was this organization that boasted as a member Billy 
Kersands, of the enormous mouth. Billy, it is claimed, could hide a 
billiard ball in one of his cheeks and go on and do his monologue with- 
out the slightest inconvenience. Curiously enough, the coloured min- 
strels applied burnt cork to their features, whether they needed it or 
not, and made up with as much care as did their white imitators. 

Gus Hill managed an organization of coloured performers, of 
which the bright particular star was Ernest Hogan. He was the original 
singer of My Gal Is a Highborn Lady, one of the song hits of Barney 
Fagan, who is still active on the stage. 

Another historic combination was that of Williams and Walker, 
and the name of Bert Williams still represents the acme of negro 
comedy and pathos. His singing of Nobody remains a unique achieve- 
ment. 

The team of Cole and Johnson is remembered with delight, par- 
ticularly in such songs as Under the Bamboo Tree. 


1An interesting relic of this association is asalary list, now in the possession of Dailey Paskman, 
showing that Charles Frohman was paid $15 and Chauncey Olcott $8.25 per week! 


175 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


The negro performer is steadily becoming more prominent in 
stage entertainments, in vaudeville, and in the revues. 

To-day we have Sissle and Blake, Miller and Lyles, and a whole 
tribe of jazz descendants of the minstrel tradition. J. Rosamond 
Johnson is still active in the concert field, and a new generation has 
brought such splendid negro artists as Roland Hayes, Paul Robeson, 
Taylor Gordon and Julius Bledsoe, while Will Marion Cook, Harry 
Burleigh, R. Nathaniel Dett and others have given dignity and sub- 
stance to the actual negro music. 

It is to the negro that the white minstrel owes everything, for 
without the presence of the black race in this country American min- 
strelsy would never have existed. The pathos, the tragedy, the humour 
of the negroes, their heritage of superstition and of religious fervour, 
their music, their linguistic whims and fancies, have been the richest 
material for translation to the stage, and minstrelsy took its toll of 
all these elements. 


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X. FAMOUS TEAMS OF MINSTRELSY 


MCINTYRE AND HEATH 


THE most famous team in the history of the black-face art is 
undoubtedly that of McIntyre and Heath, a contrasting pair of con- 
sistently funny effect. McIntyre is the lugubrious coloured man, who 
thinks that the silver lining of a cloud is probably lead, while Heath 
believes in fairies, a veritable Peter Pan, who knows positively that 
there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow. 

It was in San Antonio, Texas, that they first doubled up in 1874, 
and so far as the records show, their association has continued un- 
broken ever since. 

They played circus and variety engagements until the fall of 
1878, when they organized McIntyre and Heath’s Minstrels. Shortly 
after that, they appeared at Tony Pastor’s Theatre in New York, 
where they were hailed with unbounded joy. 

In 1880, they played with the comic opera prima donna, Alice 
Oates, in “Long Branch,” and then toured again with their own 
minstrel show. 

Hyde and Behman managed them for a season, and they went 
under the management of Primrose and West the following year, 
though retaining the name of McIntyre and Heath’s Minstrels. Their 
most important minstrel engagement was with Lew. Dockstader’s 
Company in 1891. Later they played extended engagements with both 
Hyde and Behman’s Company and the organization of Weber and 
Fields. It was with the latter that their famous ‘‘Georgia Minstrels”’ 
was produced at the Gaiety Theatre in Brooklyn in 1894. 

They flitted between vaudeville and minstrelsy for seven or eight 

179 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


years, and in 1906 began their great starring engagement in “The 
Ham Tree,” which they played for three seasons. 

“In Hayti” was the title of their next show, another big success, 
but they will always be remembered most affectionately in connection 
with the immensely popular ‘‘Ham Tree.” 

The advent of McIntyre and Heath in the musical comedy field 
marked the beginning of the policy of featuring a black-face star 
which has since been markedly successful with such men as Al Jolson 
and Eddie Cantor. 


SCHOOLCRAFT AND COES 


Luke Schoolcraft was a Southerner and had an opportunity to 
give the negro character careful study, whose results were later proved 
on the stage, although his early ambition 
was to be a Dutch comedian. 

After two years of acting with New- 
comb’s and with Simmons and Slocum’s 
Minstrels, he formed, in 1874, a partner- 
ship with George H. Coes, which was un- 
broken until Coes withdrew from the 
business in 18809. 

This team appeared with a number 
of the leading minstrel companies, includ- 
ing one of their own. They were promi- 
nent in Emerson’s Minstrels, with Hooley 
and Emerson, with Barlow, Wilson, Prim- 
rose, and West, and with the San Fran- 
7/7, cisco Minstrels in New York. 

Upon the dissolution of his partner- 
ship with Coes, Schoolcraft joined Dock- 
stader’s company in New York, his last 
LUKE SCHOOLCRAFT minstrel engagement, for, after one sea- 

180 


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FAMOUS TEAMS OF MINSTRELSY 


son with Dockstader, he joined the great troupe of specialty artists, 
Russell’s Comedians, and played in “The City Directory” until his 
death, March 10, 1893. 

Coes was a fine “straight man,” had a resonant voice, and figured 
as interlocutor in many minstrel shows. He was also an excellent 
banjoist. 

His first venture into minstrelsy was made in California, where 
he remained a few years. He joined Wood and Christy’s Minstrels 
in New York in 1857. Again he went to California as a member of 
George Christy’s Minstrels, and later headed a company in partner- 
ship with Sam Wells on the coast. Stock engagements and minstrelsy 
occupied Coes’s time until he began the long partnership with School- 
craft. He died in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1897. 


DELEHANTY AND HENGLER 


The writers on minstrelsy are unanimous in their praise of these 
minstrel and variety performers. One writer declares that they were 
“the greatest in their line that the world ever knew, or ever will know, 
in all possibility.”’ Their first appearance in New York was with Kelly 
& Leon’s Minstrels in 1867, which established them as favourites in the 
metropolis. 

They not only played the best variety theatres, but were identi- 
fied with a number of the foremost minstrel companies. They also 
toured in England and Ireland with pronounced success. 

Delehanty composed many popular songs, in addition to his ac- 
tivities as a performer. 


HARRIGAN AND HART 


Though the principal fame of this brilliant team rests upon their 
long association before the New York public as delineators of Irish 
characters, they were originally black-face performers. They formed 


1See his contributions to Sigmund Spaeth’s “‘Read ’em and Weep” and “Weep Some More, My Lady.” 
181 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


a partnership in 1871, and the next year appeared in Chicago with ey. a” 
Arlington, Cotton, and Kemble’s Minstrels. In later years, also, they oe 
resorted to burnt cork on a number of occasions. Tony Hart’s reputa- | 4 
tion as a “gentle wench” has already been noted. Ned Harrigan was a a 4 
great artist in both white and black-face. Their elaborate productions, | a 
unique in American history, unquestionably were a direct outgrowth 4 
of minstrelsy. 4 


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XI. “DIXIE” AND OTHER EXHIBITS 


On A dull rainy Sunday in November, 1859, seated in his room ina 
boarding-house in New York, Daniel Decatur Emmett wrote a song 
that has set millions to marching and cheering. That song was Dixie. 

Emmett, one of the original ‘‘Big Four,” early in his minstrel 
career had begun to provide new tunes for the ‘‘essence’’ dancers, as 
the old ones became shop-worn. He was the composer of Old Dan 
Tucker and of the Boatman’s Dance, Walk Along, John, The Blue 
Tail Fly, and Early in the Morning. 

Dan Bryant needed a new “‘walk around” for his company, and 
asked Emmett to write one. Dixie was the result. Emmett did not 
write the song with any notion that it would become popular, but 
merely as a routine job for a regular minstrel performance. 

“The song was introduced by Mrs. John Wood into a burlesque 
which she was playing in New Orleans just before the outbreak of the 
Civil War,” writes Brander Matthews. ‘‘The sentiment and the tune 
took the fancy of the ardent Louisianians and they carried it with 
them into the Confederate Army, where it soon established itself as 
the war song of the South.” 

When Dan Emmett was a very old man, he toured the South with 
Al G. Field’s Minstrels and received an ovation wherever he appeared. 

According to Field himself: 

Uncle Daniel was not in his best voice after he had marked his fourscore years, 


but every time he appeared before the footlights to sing Dixie the audience went 
wild. 

It seemed as if they would raise the roof from the theatre. Every man, woman, 
and child would rise in a body and overwhelm “Uncle Dan” with applause. It 
brought back to the memory of the grizzled men who bore arms for the Southland 
the desolate camps, the fields of defeat, and the stirring recollections of victory. 
Those Confederate soldiers had sung it on the march and in camp. It recalled to 


185 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


the widows, wives, and daughters the occasions on which Dixie had been sung 
while the men were valorously fighting for the cause that was dear to all of them. 
My acquaintance with Daniel Decatur Emmett, familiarly called “Uncle 
Dan,” extended over thirty years. The earliest authentic announcement I have of 
his appearance as a performer is a bill which he gave me in 1897. The bill adver- 
tises a performance of the Cincinnati Circus in Charleston, S. C., on Nov. 2, 1841. 

The song pirates were as active in the ’60’s as they have been 
ever since, and Emmett stated that, soon after his song had leaped to 
popularity, numerous persons laid claim to its authorship. 

Some even went so far as to write different words to the popular 
melody, claiming the authorship of the original composition. Emmett 
had retained the original manuscript, however, and there has never 
been any real doubt as to the origin of the song. 

Dan Emmett “hung up the fiddle and the bow” when he was 
almost ninety years of age. He lies buried in Mount Vernon, Ohio, 
near which town he was born and where he spent his last days. 

His body “‘lies a-mouldering in the grave,” but his song will go 
marching on through the ages. 

Emmett also composed a comic song called De Blue Tail Fly, now 
almost forgotten, but full of real negro atmosphere, and he is credited 
with the words of The Fine Old Coloured Gentleman (with his name 
spelled ““Emmit’’). 

Jim Crow’s Polka is notable both for its archaic musical form 
and for its references to the history and politics of its day. The Other 
Side of Jordan also touches upon political matters, with even more de- 
tails of local colour, and really lands far away from the spiritual 
which it suggests. It was written by E. P. Christy. 

Walk in the Parlour is true negro material, arranged by the same 
E. P. Christy, and bringing in some of the popular distortions of the 
Bible. E. W. Mackney, an early English exponent of black-face,wrote 
Sally, Come Up (under the undoubted influence of Sally in Our Alley) 
and also sang it regularly. He is credited with doing a “‘ Jim Crow” in 


1833. 
186 


Pe ee a ee ee | 


See es 


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| 


THE FIRST EDITION OF « DIXIE.” 


DIXIE’S LAND. 
{wish 3 was in de land ob cotton, 


(Cimmon seed ’an sandy bottom—- 


In Dixie’s Land whar I wes bora in, 
Early on one frosty mornin, 


Tand, 
Chérus—Den I wish I was in Dixie, 
Hooray—Hooray 3 
In Disie’s Land’we'll took our stand 
To lib and die in Dixie. (Repeat 
Away-~uWay down South in Dixie? 


Old Missus Marry Will de weaber, 
William was a gay deceaber 

Look away, €tes, 
When he put his arm around er, 
Ho look as fierce as a forty pounder, 

Look away, etc. 

Chorus—Den J wish I was in Dixie, etc 
Hiss face was sharp like bucher’s'cleaber 
But dat didn’t seem to grieb her; 

Look away. ete, 


Will run away-Missustook a decline, oh 
Her face was de color ob baconsrine-ob! 


— 


Look away, ete. 
Chorus=Den J wish I was in Disie,ete 
How could che act such a foolish part, ' 
{As mazry @ man dat break her heart? 
5 Look sway, el 
Chor--Look away—look "way—Dixie ae 


ChorusenDen I wish I was in Dixie, et 


| Here’s a health to de next old Missus, 


Aud all de galls dat wants to kiss us 3 
Look away, ete, 


Now if you want to dribe away sorrow, 
Come and hear dis song to-morrow ! 


Look away, ete 
Chorus-Den I wish I was in‘ Dixie, etc. 
Sugar in de gourd and stonny balter; 
De whites grow fat an de niggers fatter! 

Look away, ete, 


Den hoe it down and scratch your grab, 
ble, 
To Dixie’s Land I’m bound to trabble, 


Look away, etc. 
Chorus—Den I wish I was in Dixie, ete 


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THE ORIGINAL TITLE-PAGE OF “DIXIE” 
188 


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Cg nawtene Do phous aKa aa Alec ewe Oye 


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“DIXIE” Was aay FOR $300 | 
189 | 


DE BEE PAIL RLY 


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ie, 
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“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


2. Dar’s many kind ob dese here t’ings, 
From diffrent sort ob insects springs; 
Some hatch in June, an’ some July, 
But August fotches de blue tail fly, 

An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


3. When I was young, I used to wait 
On Massa’s table an’ hand de plate; 
I’d pass de bottle when he dry, 

An’ brush away de blue tail fly, 
An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


4. Den after dinner Massa sleep, 
He bid me vigilance to keep; 
An’ when he gwine to shut he eye, 
He tell me watch de blue tail fly, 
An’ scratch im, etc. 


5. When he ride in de afternoon, 
I foller wid a hickory broom; ° 
De pony being berry shy, 
When bitten by de blue tail fly, 
An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


6. One day he rode aroun’ de farm, 
De flies so numerous did swarm; 
One chance to bite ’im on de thigh, 
De debble take dat blue tail fly, 

An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


7. De pony run, he hump, an’ pitch, 
An’ tumble massa in de ditch; 
192 


“DIXIE” AND OTHER EXHIBITS 


And died, an’ de Jury wonder why, 
De verdict was ‘‘de blue tail fly,” 
An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


8. Dey laid ’im under a ’simmon tree, 
His epitaph am dar to see: 
‘‘Beneath dis stone I’m forced to lie, 
All by de means ob de blue tail fly,” 

An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


9. Ole Massa’s gone, now let him rest, 
Dey say all t’ings am for de best; 
I neber shall forget till de day I die, 
Ole Massa an’ de blue tail fly, 
An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


10. De hornet gets in your eyes an’ nose, 
De ’skeeter bites ye through your close, 
De gallinipper sweeten high, 
But wusser yet de blue tail fly, 
An’ scratch ’im, etc. 


The following song is perhaps the earliest musical celebration 
of a popular dance-form. It was years later that we had See Me 
Dance the Polka, although the current step was still the same. 

Early in the Twentieth Century came a succession of dance- 
songs, with Von Tilzer’s Cubanola Glide setting a syncopated pace. 
The Turkey Trot, Grizzly Bear, and Bunny Hug celebrated various 
stages of vulgarity at which Old Jim Crow himself would have 
opened his eyes in horror. (The original punctuation and spelling 
are retained in Jzm Crow’s Polka.) 


193 


JIM CROW'S POLKA 


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CHORUS 
Den 
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ch 


195 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Frue de kitchen I did ran, 

I hide behind a frying pan, 

And dis is de song dat I did sang, 

Oh, I’d like to dance de Poker. 

My lubly Rose I chanced to meet, 

She took a squint down at my feet, 

Says she dear Jim dem is complete, 
Den up and down, etc. 


Says I dear Rose cum take a walk, 
I want wid you to hab some talk, 
Fust she squealed and den she squalled 
You want to dance de Poker; 
Oh, no, dear Rose, you is mistaken, 
Now from your sleep you’se just awaken, 
De nigger den, to sabe her bacon, 
Began to dance de Poker. 
Den up and down, etc. 


I tell you Rose dat is no go, 
De way you does it isn’t slow, 
But Jim hab traveled, dat you know, 
So drap down on dat Poker; 
Ise got de news ’bout Mexico, 
Dey t’aut to lick us at one blow, 
But General Taylor wasn’t slow, 
To make dem dance de Poker. 
Den up and down, etc. 


When General Taylor left his camp, 
Provisions dey were getting cramped, 
196 


AND OTHER EXHIBITS 


“DIXIE” 


To Isabel he took a tramp, 
And landed safe as soda; 


De Mexicans 8000 stand, 


? 


Dey crossed de ribber Riogrand 


Den blazed away at barrels of wind, 
But found it was no Joker. 


Den up and down, etc. 


He got so skeared he swallowed his hed, 


And three days after he was dead 


But Rough and Ready made dem smell 
He danced the Jim Crow Poker. 


Dey hid demselves in de Chapparel, 
Gunpowder a la poker; 


De Mexicans dere plans laid well, 
One Mexican General, so ’tis said, 


Den up and down, etc. 


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PEAS HLT tae ARRAN CRE 
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SE SARS A BLESS ESI 
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é i| t any 
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~ SP "Ry o ¥ 5 — , 


CHORUS 


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Jor - dan; 


Fy 
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road to trav. el 


Hard 


lieve. 


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road to 


hard 


a 


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Jor-dan 


— —s se _ SC SS a a re 


200 


¢ 


SDOUASESOAND OTHER EA RIBI TS 


. Around the Crystal Palace, there’s a great many shows, 


Where all of the green ones are drawn in; 
‘There’s snakes and alligators, mammoth mules and big potatoes, 
That were raised upon the other side of Jordan. 
I take off my coat, etc. 


. The Sovereign of the Seas, she went to Liverpool 


In less than fourteen days too, accordin’; 
Johnny Bull, he wiped his eyes, and looked with surprise, 
At this clipper from the Yankee side of Jordan. 
I take off my coat, etc. 


. The ladies of England, have sent a big address, 


About Slavery and all its horrors, accordin’, 
They had better look at home, to their own White Slaves, 
That are starving on the English side of Jordan. 
I take off my coat, etc. 


. The Duchess of Sutherland, she keeps the ‘‘Stafford House,” 


The place where the ‘‘ Black Swan’’ is boarding, 
At a musical party, they asked for her a song, 
And she gave them—On the other side of Jordan. 
I take off my coat, etc. 


. They have got a ‘“‘ Bearded Lady,” down at Barnum’s show, 


And lots of pictures outside, accordin’, 
She’s going to take her eyelashes for a pair of moustaches, 
For to travel on the other side of Jordan. 
I take off my coat, etc. 


. There’s the case of ‘‘ Kosta,’ that has made so much talk, 


The Austrians, they tried for to maul him, 
; 201 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


But Capt. Ingraham said, if they didn’t let him go, 


He'd blow them on the other side of Jordan. 


I take off my coat, etc. 


8. Our great father Washington, he was a mighty man, 


And all the Yankees do their fighting, accordin’ 
They will raise the flag of Freedom, wherever they can, 


> 


on the other side of Jordan. 


I take off my coat, etc. 


? 


Till they plant it 


> 


, wherever we may go 


9. And all the world must know 


Our Government will be ready in affordin 
Protection alike to all, both the great and small, 


3 


That hail from the Yankee side of Jordan. 


I take off my coat, etc. 


WALK IN THE PARLOUR 


MST 2 a oR RO RU SS" a i 7 TE Ae”, ee et ea) 


(42, VAS eo OA ee 2 a Oe a A Te ae oe. co 


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ion of de world in a twinkling of (a crack, So 


10, 


walk in,walk 


ip-+t 


ger 


git you 


Walk in-to de par-lor, and hear de ban-jo play. 


! 


I say 


In 


walk 


203 


~ “GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


eS yr me 
EP eee) * GE 
©, PO STE AES WF EET 
¢, 


Lightning is a yaller gal who libs up in de clouds, 

Thunder is a brack man, and he can holler loud, 

When he kisses Lightning, she darts up in a wonder, 

He jumps up and grabs de clouds and dat’s what makes it thunder. 
Walk in, etc. 


Noah built de ark and filled it full of sassage, 

All de odder animals took a cabin passage; 

De elephant he cum last,—Noah said, “ You’s drunk’’! 

“No,” says he, “‘it took me all dis time to pack away my trunk.” 
Walk in, etc. 


Oh, Noah sent de bird out, to look for dry land, 

When he cum back, he had de banjo in his hand, 

I took up de banjo, and played ’em dis ’ere tune, 

All the animals, ’cept the elephant, fell into a swoon. 
Walk in, etc. 


204 


SAE COME-UP! 


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(2) 
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gone 


Mas- sas 


to all 


look 


To 


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CHORUS, aa 2b. 


SAREE WP OLS WF RR AER 
el OE SGA! _ AER _ ARE oS WE ON FT 


OF RSE RT es 
G 


Sal-ly,come twist yourheel a-round; De 


Sal-ly,come up! oh, Sal-ly, go down! 


a ry 
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wee See 


= i N| 


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Bel 


old man hes gone down to town- Oh, Sal-ly,comedown de mid-dle! 


lil TI 
lik uw 
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We at 


ah 
macs ¢ 


“DIXIE” AND OTHER EXHIBITS 


2. Last Monday night I gave a ball, 

And | invite the Niggers all, 

The thick, the thin, the short, the tall, 
But none came up to Sally! 

And at the ball 

She did lick ’em all; 

Black Sal was de fairest gal ob all— 
My lubly, charming Sally! [Chorus] 


3. De fiddle was played by Pompey Jones, 
Uncle Ned he shook de bones, 
Joe played on de pine-stick stones ;— 
But dey couldn’t play to Sally! 
Old Dan Roe 
Played on de ole Banjo, 
Ginger Blue de big drum blew; 
But he couldn’t blow like Sally! [Chorus] 


4. Dar was dat lubly gal, Miss Fan, 
Wid a face as broad as a frying-pan; 
But Sally’s is as broad again— 
Dar’s not a face like Sally’s! 

She’s got a foot 

To full out de boot, 

So broad, so long, as a gum-tree root, 
Such a foot has Sally! [Chorus] 


5. Sally can dance, Sally can sing, 
Dat cat-choker reel, and break-down fling; 
To get de Niggers in a string, 
Dar’s not a gal like Sally! 
207 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Tom, Sam, and Ned, 
Dey often wish me dead; 
To dem both all tree I said, 
Don’t you wish you may get my Sally? [Chorus] 


6. Sally has got a lubly nose, 

Flat across her face it grows, : 

It sounds like t’under when it blows, 
Such a lubly nose has Sally! 

She can smell a rat, 

So mind what you're at; 

It’s rader sharp although it’s flat, 
Is the lubly nose ob Sally! [Chorus] 


7. De oder night I said to she, 
“T’ll hab you, if you’ll hab me.” 
“All right,” says she, ‘‘I do agree’; 
So I smash up wid Sally. 
She’s rader dark, 
But quite up to de mark; 
Neber was such a gal for a lark, 
Such a clipper girl was Sally— [Chorus] 


A Life by de Galley Fire is dated 1848. It contains some fine 
yodelling effects, and, with the curious Eel Catcher’s Glee, represents 
a distinct departure from conventional minstrel material. 


208 


A LIFE BY DE GALLEY FIRE 


Allegretto 


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PRE EIR STIRS 

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shud. 


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zack -ly suits dis 


cop 


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KSAT LITTER ERIE 
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a 
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REEL SAS 
Seer seen 


is 
Seat aN eet 
life ad- 
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=—S——_= 


Bi 
| Lad va Ht «a #8rel Sil ord = Cc ‘ 

3 Hl addll wil sik 2 tL 
si, || . 
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HEE Sale Ul etl) g th 
Hy * tr | ay Ue“ ny 
Ait a dip Ak Ripe al) Id Al age HI het iy it 
1<2Ca ah He is Ree # () Ne _ fen “TNS ah ies ah 91) 


= gone 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


Once more in de Galley I sit, Habanna Cigars I smoke, 
Dere’s many a colored Gal, in lub wid dis old cook; 
Habanna Cigars I smoke, 
Dere’s many a colored Gal, in lub wid dis old cook. 
And wen de Captain’s done, de basket I controls, 
De wittels I serves out, to de poor and hungry souls. [Chorus] 


O wen to de coop I go, de gobblers dey all look, 
Becase dey know full well, dat I’m de slautering cook; 
De gobblers dey all look, 
Becase dey know full well, dat I’m de slautering cook. 
De chickens dey look in my face, and de duck dey wink dere eye, 
Becase dey know full well, dat some ob de lot must die. [Chorus] 


THE FINE OLD COLORED GENTLEMAN 


Allegretto 


PIANO 


4 by a, 
a eee 2 J A BRT... SS 
4. 0D JU Sa ee ee BSS ST Cae DF BE ee 1 Ee 


ras — 
er GS PED Meee) Ce OTS Re ec, SERS teen I 


2. His temper was very mild when he was let alone, 
But when you get him dander up, he spunk to de backbone, 
He whale de sugar off ye by de double rule of three 
And whip his wate in wildcats, when he got on a spree, 
For Sambo was a Gemman, One of de oldest kind. 


3. When dis nigger took a snooze, it was in a nigger crowd, 
He used to keep them all awake, because he snored so loud, 
He drawed himself up in a knot, his knees did touch his chin, 
De bedbugs had to clar de track, when he stretched down his shin. 


For Sambo was, etc. 
214 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


. He had a good old banjo, so well he kept it strung, 

He used to sing the good old song of ‘‘go it while you’re young,” 
He sung so long and sung so loud, he scared the pigs and goats, 
Because he took a pint of yeast to raise the highest notes. For, etc. 


. When dis nigga stood upright an’ wasn’t slantindicular 

He measured about ’leven feet, he wasn’t ver’ partic’lar, 

For he could jump, and run a race, and do a little hoppin’, 

And when he got a-goin’ fast, the devil couldn’t stop *im. 
For Sambo, etc. 


. Old Father Time kept rolling by and age grew on apace, 

The wool all dropt off from his head, and wrinkled was his face, 
He was de oldest nigger what lived on dat plantation, 

He didn’t fear de debil den, nor all of his relation. For, etc. 


. Old age came on, his teeth dropt out, it made no odds to him, 
He eat as many taters and he drank as many gin; 
He swallowed two small railroads wid a spoonful of ice cream, 
And a locomotive bulgine while dey blowin’ off de steam. 

For Sambo, etc. 


. One bery windy morning dis good old nigger died, 

De niggers came from odder states and loud for joy dey cried; 

He layin’ down upon a bench as strait as any post, 

De ’coons did roar, de possums howled when he gub up de ghost. 
For Sambo, etc. 


. De niggers held an inquest when dey heard of his death, 

De verdict of de jury was, he died for want of breath; 

Dey went to work and skinned him and then they had it dried, 
And de head of dis here banjo is off dat old nigger’s hide. For, etc. 


214 


DEERE CALECHERS GLEE 


© 
Zi 
= 
Ay 


oO EE eee 
>) ORG ey ee ee Oe 
< 


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riv-er steal, A-way, 


Come dark-ies to de 


A-way yah! Yah 


A - way, 


Din-ah’s heel, A- way, 


night am dark as 


We'll 


~ 


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s 
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E 


so spry-ly, 


dc fish am_ sleep-ing. 


While 


sly - ly, 


grab de eels so 


Come wid your bobs an’ eeltubs too, 


Away, Away, Away ah! 
An’ jump into de log canoe 


3 


Away, Away, Away ah! 


ll fish by de light ob de firefly, 


Away, 
Dat wink his wing like Dinah’s eye, 


’ 


We 


Away ah! 


Away, 


Away, Away, Away ah! 
Ya hoo! so sprightly we’ll haul de sarpents up sa, 


An’ den so slyly we'll fry de gals a supper. 


216 


Around de rod we’ll make ’em spin, 
Away, Away, Away ah! 
Like a cart-whip round a nigga’s shin, 
Away, Away, Away ah! 
Stop nigga, what’s dat make you shake? 
Away, Away, Away ah! 
I’se got a bite—ob a water snake!!! 
Away, Away, Away ah! 
Ya hoo! boys, quickly! De darkie’s looken blacker. 
Bind de wound up slickly, Wid a fresh chaw of tobacka. 


Now take de sarpents from de tub, 
Away, Away, Away ah! 

Each take his share home to his lub, 
Away, Away, Away ah! 

Conumdrum! Why am we blacks religious say? 
Away, Away, Away ah! 

Kase we're all an eeling [kneeling] for to pray, 
Away, Away, Away ah! 

Ya hoo! so fly let blacks go possum stealing. 
Dar’s none so spryly as dem dat go an eeling. 


The minstrels often sang songs of the most maudlin sentimental- 
ity, similar to those which were in vogue during the mournful ’90’s. 
A Lock of my Mother’s Hair is typical of early drawing rooms, but had 
its place also in the black crescent, when a sweet-voiced tenor or 
baritone decided to draw tears from his auditors for a change. 

Found Dead in the Snow is even more melancholy, while a gentle 
touch of romance is wafted into noisy surroundings by the flowery 
words and music of Had I the Wings of a Fairy Gay. 


1These delightfully absurd songs bridge the gap between legitimate minstrelsy and that great mass 
of popular music largely self-commiserating, collected by the editor in his earlier volumes, “Read ’Em 
and Weep” and “Weep Some More, My Lady”. 


217 


A LOCK OF MY MOTHER’S HAIR 


ino espressivo 


Andant 


F 
| 


weed See” 


PIANO 


"Nis a let-terthat Ive treasured man-y 


>? 


Ive a let-terthat waswrit-ten long a- go, 


° 
2 


ing lines 


Oh! how of-ten I have read those fad- 


| 


ing i 


She sent to me her bless- 


é 
. 
5 
$ 
: 
5 
ze: 
g 
fs 
S 
} 


cd 


in this old 


ers hair.__ 


tle lock of gray 


gel moth-ers hair. 


s 
E 
D 
90 
c 
os} 
£ 
° 
3 
A 
ss} 
4 


der care, _—__# The lit- 
lock of my an- 


ter that was sent me long a 


- tlelock of gray inthisold let-ter, 
ter that I keep with ten- 


Ive a - let- 


lit 
let- 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


I’ve a letter that was written long ago, 


That was sent to me across the stormy sea, 


When 


mong strangers I was wandering far away, 


3 


And longing home again to ever be. 
But underneath the sod my mother’s sleeping, 


She’s free from earthly trials and its care, 


But ever next my heart I 


? 


ll keep her letter 


bd 


And the lock of my angel mother’s hair. [Chorus] 


FOUND DEAD IN THE SNOW 


night, The 


thro’ the 


all 


Le] 
qd 
3 
&D 
qd 

a) 

t 
od 

Ho 
| 

Coy 
qo 
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ro 
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GS 


Snow 


The 


| 


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and might, 


fu - ry 


its 


in 


had raged 


tem - pest 


220 


to 


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dead lay the or - phan 


poor head, 


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by the blast, 


Weep - ing, 


Lo 
ap 
ih iS 


1) 


Oh, the terror and pain of that night none can tell, 
When, fainting with hunger and cold, he fell; 

In vain he cried, ‘‘ Mother,” when dying he lay, 

For no one was near when his soul passed away. 
Poor little wanderer, none were there 

To close his sad eyes, or hear his prayer; 

No one to pity, no fond tear was shed 

Over the wanderer, alas, found dead. [Chorus] 


Oh, are there not many out in the bleak street, 

Still wandering about in their cold bare feet? 

Pray, turn not aside with glances of scorn, 

Because they are poor and their garments are torn. 

The orphaned poor, they pity need, 

Withhold not compassion when they plead; 

May it be thy joy and pleasure when old, 

That thou hast saved many from hunger and cold. 
[Chorus] 


The foregoing is an inevitable reminder of such other models 
from the school of self-pity as Little Barefoot, and Driven from Home, 
and The Drunkard’s Love Child.’ 


1All of these gems are to be found in the pages of “Weep Some More, My Lady.” 


223) 


HAD I THE WINGS OF A FAIRY GAY 


Allegretto 


8ra © OOOO OEO SEES OEDESSADSSSE HADES BOESES SEBS TEOSOS SSS OPBASEDSHBLAASSS SESS HESESESEDESSE 


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Zz 
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d float with,the zeph-yrs a- 


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had I the wings of a fai - 


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© - Gean blue 


Or light-ly Id skim o'r the 


a - way 


way 


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With a heart aslight as a 


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sum-mer cloud, And a 


as proud As the 


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soul 


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my view - less 


My glad-some 


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wings o 


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yoy- age should be, 


Or light-ly Id skim oer the 


a-way 


float with the zeph-yrs a - way 


0 - cean blue, In a gos -sa-merform of its own bright hue. 


226 


PEAS AND OTHERC EXHIBITS 


From a flowery dell I’d swift emerge, 

And hover in air on the mountains’ verge, 
Then cleave through the heavens afar, afar, 
Till tranced in the light of a glittering star. 
Through every region I’d take my flight, 

And bound o’er the earth in a ray of light, 

Or follow the storm midst the lightning’s glare, 
Then anon to some desert cave repair. [Chorus] 


227 


‘XIL CHARCOAL SKETCHES 


ASTAULSNIJY NYAGO|y AO SAOVUL) AHYH][ AH] 


YAGVLSMOOd MAT SNVAd _AOd AANOH,, ADYOAO SWVITIHIM Laad 


Xll. CHARCOAL SKETCHES 


LEW DOCKSTADER 


THE name that looms largest in American minstrelsy and is best 
remembered by modern audiences is that of Lew Dockstader. When 
the minstrel business as a permanent institution began to decline in 
New York, it was Dockstader who kept it going to the bitter end, 
preserving the great traditions of the past and developing his own 
talents to the highest point. 

Lew Dockstader’s real name was George Alfred Clapp, and he was 
born in Hartford, Connecticut, August 7, 1856. It was after he had 
teamed with Charles Dockstader, and the combination became 
known as the Dockstader Brothers, black-face comedians, that Lew 
permanently adopted the name that became world famous in the field 
of minstrelsy. 

Dockstader’s first appearance in black-face was made in an 
amateur show in 1873, when he did a song and dance act with Frank 
Lawton in his home town. His cleverness attracted the attention of 
Harry Bloodgood, who added him to the troupe of Bloodgood’s 
Comic Alliance, his first professional engagement. 

Throughout his entire career, Dockstader never abandoned 
black-face for white,!as did so many of the other stars; he was a 
minstrel first and last, whether doing his famous monologues in a 
minstrel show, or headlining vaudeville bills throughout the country. 
His services were always in demand among the leading managers of 
minstrelsy when he was not heading his own companies. 

After the termination of his managerial career in New York, he 


1He did, however, show his versatility by playing Sir Joseph Porter in the Boston Theatre’s re- 
vival of “Pinafore,” to the surprise of even his staunch admirers, who had never thought of him as a 
legitimate actor. Dockstader’s many accomplishments are still the talk of the theatre. 


231 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED! 


joined Primrose and West’s Minstrels. Later, he again headed his own 
company and toured successfully for about four years. 

Vaudeville then claimed him until 1898, when, with the help of 
George Primrose, another minstrel company was organized, bearing 
their names. 

This company toured for five seasons, after which Dockstader 
once more entered vaudeville and continued in it until his show days 
were over. 

J. P. Wilson, playwright, author, and lyric writer (responsible, 
incidentally, for the words of May Irwin’s Bully song) supplies the 
following reminiscence of the great minstrel: 


It was during one of Dockstader’s vaudeville engagements that I first met him, 
when he was the big headliner over the Orpheum Circuit, and was booked to appear 
at the Orpheum Theatre in San Francisco. I had been house librettist for the Tivoli 
Opera House in that city and was called upon to furnish some material for the com- 
ing star in the way of extra verses for a topical song. | met Dockstader at the Bald- 
win Hotel on a Sunday morning, and found him a charming and courteous gentle- 
man. One reason for his great popularity with the public was that he always handed 
out the latest gossip, the breeziest news of the day. He was always looking for ma- 
terial of the moment and of local interest in the city in which he was appearing, 
and often his hearers would exclaim, ‘‘ How did he know that about so-and-so? He 
only came to town to-day!” 

The answer is that he had scouts in every city he visited, ready to prime him 
with local gags that were right up to the minute. 

I wrote him a couple of verses for That Ain’t No Lie,! a song he was featuring, 
which went well, and also some parody verses on A Hot Time in the Old Town, be- 
sides providing various hints for his monologue. Lew’s engagement was extended to 
three weeks, and he kept me under salary for the entire time. 


1The verses were as follows: Went down town for to cast my vote, 
Thought I’d swap it for a two dollar note. 
Man says, “‘I’ll give you five, sure as fate, 

If you’ll vote the Democratic ticket straight.” 
I took the five, then another man 

Give me ten to vote the Republican. 

But to fool them both I couldn’t resist, 

An’ I voted for a no-account Socialist. 


Went to the roller rink for to skate, 

Thought that to tumble would be my fate: 
Stopped on the way to get a bracer of gin, 
Took two or three before I went in. 

Asked the skate man his skates for to try, 

He looked at my feet and says he with a sigh, 
“There ain’ a skate big enough in the lot,” 


Says I, “What’s the matter with the skate I’ve got?” [Refrain:] I’m a natural born grafter, I’m a nat- 


[Refrain:] I’m a natural born skater, I’m a natural born ural born grafter, 
skater, I’se got my franchise, My vote comes 
A regular high roller, That ain’t no lie. high. 


232 


CHARCOAL SKETCHES 


Josephine Sabel was on the bill the first two weeks, and among her numbers was 
the Hot Time as a straight song. Lew introduced the parody on the first night of his 
third week, with Miss Sabel sitting in a box watching the show. The burlesque of 
the singer, including her exit, was exceedingly funny, but evidently she did not feel 
flattered by the honour. 

The gentle art of parody practically passed from the American stage with Lew 
Dockstader. In his death, minstrelsy lost its last and greatest true exponent, “a 
fellow of infinite wit, of most excellent fancy.” 


DICK JOSE 

This tenor singer, best known for his interpretation of Silver 
Threads Among the Gold, was born in England, but has also been 
claimed by the Californians as a Native Son. They insist that he took 
the name of José from the town of San José in the Prune Belt. 

Actually he came to America as an orphan boy, and first worked 
as a blacksmith in Reno, Nevada. 

One of Richard J. José’s biographers writes: “‘Never in the annals 
of minstrelsy has any singer met with more phenomenal success than 
that achieved by the subject of this sketch,”’ which is not faint praise. 

Dick’s huge size and the volume and beauty of his voice made a 
real hit with Charlie Reed’s Minstrels in San Francisco, with Lew 
Dockstader in New York, and with other troupes. He did the in- 
cidental singing in ‘‘The Old Homestead” for eight years and carried 
Silver Threads Among the Gold, I Love You in the Same Old Way, and 
other sentimental songs into all the big vaudeville houses in the 
country. 

““PONY’’ MOORE 

“Pony” Moore lived to be eighty-nine years of age, undaunted 
by his full name of George Washington Moore. 

Circusman, expert “whip,” driver of ten teams of horses simul- 
taneously (hence the ‘‘Pony’’) he became in turn a minstrel end man, 
show manager, and father-in-law of Charlie Mitchell, one time heavy- 
weight champion, defeated by John L. Sullivan in a historic ring 


battle. 
233 


“GENTLEMEN, BE SEATED!” 


“Pony” Moore 


“Pony” Moore was American born, but became an expatriate, 
living in England through most of his career. He was tremendously 
popular there, and seems to have started the English custom of 
laughing at American jokes. 

Minstrelsyin England neverrecovered from the passing of “Pony” 
Moore. ¥ ; 
GEORGE “HONEY BOY” EVANS 

Wales preserved its tradition of song when it produced this 
golden-voiced minstrel, who was born in the little town of Pontytlin on 
the roth of March, 1870. The spirits of the old Welsh bards, who 
hovered over his career, must have been amply satisfied with his 
success in his chosen profession. 

George Evans wrote the song J’l] Be True to My Honey Boy, and 
the name stuck to him through life. He first appeared as a minstrel 
with Haverly in Chicago, as a youth of twenty-one. The next year he 
joined Cleveland’s troupe, and later he was with Primrose and West, 
then again with Haverly. 

234 


HOVA-MOVIG NO SLSAY TILG AWVJ ASOHA\ SUVLSG NAIOP 
Nos1o0f 1v YOLNVD AIada 


CHARCOAL SKETCHES 


He graduated out of black-face into white in ‘‘The Good Old 
Summertime” and “The Runaways,” musical comedies. ‘Honey 
Boy” Evans was featured in the big minstrel revival made by Cohan 
and Harris, and eventually became proprietor of the show, the 
youngest minstrel manager in the country. Vaudeville finally claimed 
him, as has been the case with so many minstrels. 


EDDIE LEONARD 

Eddie Leonard gave up his actual name, Lemuel J. Tuney, about 
the time he went into long trousers. Who can blame him? He soon 
made his alias famous as a “‘sweet singer,” creating such song hits 
as Roll Them Roley Boley Eyes, etc. 

Eddie Leonard headed his own minstrel show at one time but is 
endeared to the present generation chiefly through his vaudeville 
triumphs. 


AL JOLSON AND EDDIE CANTOR 

Al Jolson, born Albert Joelson, sprang from Russian parentage 
and is said to be the actual hero of “‘The Jazz Singer,” which he 
filmed not so long ago. In any case, his father was a Rabbi. Jolson’s 
first appearances were in 1903, in vaudeville, after which he joined 
Dockstader’s Minstrels and then went back to the variety stage. 

As a singer of ““Mammy” songs and master of the “pep” 
technique, he has achieved an almost unique reputation. The Shuberts 
have starred him in their big musical shows, and his latest successes 
have been in the movies. 

Eddie Cantor has built up a similar following, and his reputation 
also rests chiefly upon his highly individual work in black-face. He 
likewise belongs to the “‘pep”’ school, but has a smooth technique that 
is all his own, and has made himself a legitimate musical comedy 
artist through such performances as “‘Kid Boots.’ Until recently, 
Cantor was the outstanding star of the Ziegfeld “Follies.” 

235 


i 3 


THe Last STAGE IN THE EVOLUTION OF MINSTRELSY 


the modern theatre, the Radio Minstrels preserve the traditions 


d style of u 


Reborn at the microphone, and revived in 


p-lo-date production. 


1é 


f 


1 


the glor 


in 


XIII. EPILOGUE 


THERE are many other names that will occur to those who are 
still interested in minstrelsy and who once followed its astonishing 
history, year after year. It is impossible even to mention in these pages 
all those who contributed to this typically American form of enter- 
tainment. 

Necessarily, also, the treatment of facts, figures, and personalities 
has been brief, with merely a hint of the range and significance of 
minstrel activities during the latter half of the past century. 

No modern runs of plays, musical shows, or even stock companies 
can compare with the drawing powers of the old minstrel troupes. 
It was a hardy art form, and it is not likely that it will ever die, for 
to-day it still suggests the logical type of entertainment for amateurs, 
and its popularity over the radio has contributed to a revival that may 
actually prove permanent. 

Aside from the competition of ‘‘mixed”’ shows, it is quite likely 
that American minstrelsy declined because of its overelaboration. 
When the settings began to look like a Drury Lane pantomime and the 
men dressed like gorgeous courtiers in a magnificent kingdom, not to 
speak of the increasing tendency to substitute white faces for black, the 
minstrel show began to lose some of its distinctive flavour. It could 
not compete on the same plane with the grandeur of the modern musi- 
cal comedies and revues. But, left to itself, with its individual tech- 
nique and its familiar formulas of wit and sentiment, all based upon 
homely realities of human experience, the minstrel show might easily 
have survived, and under similar conditions it might even live again. 

Let a company of good singers and dancers black up in the 

239 


“GENTLEMEN, BE. p SEATED!” : 


‘old-fashioned way, crack a few jokes of naive simplicity dL 
some straightforward numbers of immediate appeal, and | 
be fairly sure of finding an audience at any time. es 

This book is presented not as an obituary to ninstrely, t 
advance notice of its permanent life. 


THE END 


INDEX 


Soncs WiTH WorpDs AND Music 


Alabama Coon, Little, 131. 
Arkansas Traveller, 109. 
Aura Lee, 114. 


Big Sunflower, The, 38. 
Blue Tail Fly, De, 191. 


Cake Walk, 127. 
(a) Little Alligator Bait, 127. 
(b) Chocolate, 128. 
(c) Eli Green, 129. 


Dandy Jim of Caroline, 51. 
De Blue Tail Fly, 191. 

De Eel Catcher’s Glee, 215. 
Dixie (manuscript), 190. 


Eel Catcher’s Glee, De, 215. 


Fine Old Colored Gentleman, The, 212. 
Found Dead in the Snow, 220. 


Going to the Silver Wedding, 7o. 


Had I the Wings of a Fairy Gay, 224. 

Hard Times Come Again No More, 58. 

Hot Time in the Old Town To-night, A, 
098. 


I Hope I Don’t Intrude, 60. 


Jim Crow, 12, 13, 14. 
Jim Crow’s Polka, 194. 
Josiphus Orange Blossom, 54. 


Life by de Galley Fire, A, 209. 
Little Alabama Coon, 131. 
Lock of My Mother’s Hair, The, 218. 


Nancy Fat, 123. 
Nellie Gray, 118. 


Oh, Susanna, 134. 
Old Dan Tucker, 42. 
Other Side of Jordan, The, 197. 


Ring Dat Golden Bell, 105. 
Root, Hog, or Die, 45. 


Sally, Come Up, 205. 
Stop dat Knockin’ at My Door, 64. 


Wake Nicodemus, 48. 

Walk in the Parlour, 202. 

When the Bell in the Lighthouse Rings, 
110. 

When You and I Were Young, Maggie, 
101. 


Worps OF SONGS 
(without printed music) 


Billy’s Dream, 74. 
Down South, 133. 


Gum Tree Canoe, 73. 
Little Octoroon, The, 74. 


243 


INDEX 


REFERENCES TO SONGS 


Barefoot, Little, 223. 

Big Sunflower, The, 37, 38, 163. 
Blue Tail Fly, The, 175, 186, 191. 
Boatman’s Dance, 175. 

Bunny Hug, 193. 


Clar de Kitchen, 15. 
Cubanola Glide, 193. 


Dandy Jim of Caroline, 37, 51. 
Dixie, 185, 187, 188, 190. 

Driven from Home, 223. 
Drunkard’s Love Child, The, 223. 


Early in the Morning, 175. 


Fine Old Colored Gentleman, The, 186, 


212. 


Going to the Silver Wedding, 37, 70. 
Grizzly Bear, 193. 
Gumbo Chaff, 15. 


Hard Times Come Again No More, 37, 
58. 

Home Again, 92. 

Hot Time in the Old Town To-night, A, 
08, 232. 


I Hope I Don’t Intrude, 37, 60. 


I Love You in the Same Old Way, 233. 


I’ll Be True to My Honey Boy, 234. 


Jim Crow, 12, 13, 14, 186. 
Jim Crow’s Polka, 186, 194. 
Josiphus Orange Blossom, 37, 54. 


Little Barefoot, 223. 
Love Among the Roses, 162. 
Lucy Long, 15. 


Mary Kelly’s Beau, 162. 
Moriarity, 162. 

Mulligan Guard, The, 158. 

My Gal Is a Highborn Lady, 175. 


Nobody, 175. 
Not for Joe, 37. 


Old Clothes Man, The, 18. 
Old Dan Tucker, 37, 42, 175. 
Other Side of Jordan, The, 186, 197. 


Roll Them Roley Boley Eyes, 235. 
Root, Hog, or Die, 37, 45. 


Sally, Come Up, 186, 205. 

Sally in Our Alley, 186. 

See Me Dance the Polka, 193. 

Silver Threads Among the Gold, 233. 
Sittin’ ona Rail, 15. 

Stop dat Knockin’ at My Door, 37, 64.] 
Such a Gettin’ Up Stairs, 15, 17. 


Tassels on Her Boots, 162. 
That Ain’t No Lie, 232. 
Turkey Trot, 193. 


Under the Bamboo Tree, 175. 
Wake Nicodemus, 37, 48. 
Walk Along, John, 175. 
Walk in the Parlour, 186, 202. 
Whistling Coon, The, 173. 


Yaller Gal That Looked at Me, The, 
162. 


Zip Coon (Turkey in the Straw), 15. 


PERSONALITIES 


Allen, 163. 
Archer, 16. 


Arlington, Billy, 156, 160, 165, 181, 182. 
244 


Arnold, Amos, 172. 
Arnold, Billy, 74, 172. 
Arnold, Frank, 172. 


INDEX 


Backus, 16, 18. 

Backus, Charlie, 18, 92, 156, 158, 162. 

Barlow, Milt G., 17, 170, 171, 180. 

Barlow Brothers, 17. 

Barnum, P. T., 17, 19. 

Belasco, David, 19. 

Benedict, Lew, 17, 160, 169, 172. 

Bernard, Sam, go. 

Bernard, Wm. H., 156. 

Birch, Billy, 18, 92, 156, 162. 

Bledsoe, Julius, 176. 

Bloodgood, Harry, 231. 

Booth, Edwin, 19. 

Brady, Jim, 84. 

Brower, Frank, 15, 16, 18, 28. 

Browne, G. F., 158. 

Bryant Brothers, 155. 

Bryant, Daniel D. (“Dan’’), 17, 155, 
185. 

Bryant, Jerry, 17, 155. 

Bryant, Neil, 155. 

Buckley’s New Orleans Serenaders, 16. 

Burgess, Neil, 109. 

Burleigh, Harry, 1°76. 


Callender’s Coloured Minstrels, 165, 
175. 

Campbell, J. K., 157. 

Cantor, Eddie, 19, 169, 180, 235. 

Carncross, John L., 17, 159, 160. 

Cawthorne, Joseph, 20. 

Christian, Tom, 18. 

Christy, Edwin P., 16, 164, 186. 

Christy, George, 17, 139, 156, 157, 161, 
164, 181. 

Christy, E. Byron, 139. 

Clapp, George, Alfred (Lew Dock- 
stader), 231. 

Clark and McCullough, 89. 

Cleveland, Wm. S., 173, 174. 

Clifford, Billy, 20. 

Coes, George H., 157, 180, 181. 

Cohan and Harris, 174, 235. 

Cohan, Jerry, 18. 

Cohan, George, 18, 174. 

Cole and Johnson, 175. 


Collier, Willie, 20. 
Cook, Will Marion, 176. 
Cotton, Ben, 156, 162, 170, 181, 182. 


D’Ansili, Eugene (“ Eugene”’), 93. 

Delehanty (Wm. H.) and Hengler 
(Thos. M.), 181. 

Dett, R. Nathaniel, 176. 

Devere, Sam, 173. 

Dickinson and Backus, 16. 

Dixey, E. Freeman (Crancross and 
Dixey), 160. 

Dockstader, Charles, 231. 

Dockstader, Lew, 20, 92, 158, 160, 170, 
17Q,\190;.241,°242,/233; 

Donniker, John B., 156, 160. 

Dougherty, Hughie, 80, 90, 162. 

Dumont, Frank, 15, 20, 90, 160. 

Duprez, Charles H., 17, 160, 169, 172. 


Eldridge, Press, 169. 

Eltinge, Julian, 92, 93. 

Emerson, William R. (“Billy”), 18, 27, 
37, 90, 156, 158, 161, 162, 163, 173, 
180 


Emmett, Daniel D. (“Dan”), 6, 15, 
185, 186. 

Emmett, J. K. (“Fritz’’), 20. 

Evans, George (“Honey Boy”), 20, 
174, 234, 235. 


Fagan, Barney, 175. 
Farrell, J., 16. 

Field, Al G., 169, 173, 174, 185. 
Forest, Edwin, 11, 19. 
Foster, Stephen C., 37. 
“Four Cohans,” 18. 
Fox, Della, 159. 

Fox, Eddie, 169. 

Foy, Eddie, 80. 
Frillman, H. W., 158. 
Frohman, Charles, 175. 
Frohman, Daniel, 175. 
Frohman, Gustave, 175. 


Gardner, Dan, 91. 
Germon, F., 16. 


245 


INDEX 


Gilmore, Patrick S., 19. 
Golden, George Fuller, 20. 
Goodwin, Nat, 20. 
Gordon, Taylor, 176. 
Gorman Brothers, 1°74. - 
Gorman, George, 174. 
Gorman, James, 174. 
Gorman, John, 20, 174. 
Grawpner, Mr., 11. 


Hall, E. M., 32, 158. 

Hamilton, W. H., 158. 

Harrigan (Ned) and Hart (Tony), 16,90, 
93, 94, 158, 181, 182. 

Harrington, G., 16. 

Harris, Sam, 174, 235. 

Hart, Bob, 158, 163. 

Hart, Tony, 93, 182. 

Harte, Bret, 166. 

Haverly, J. H. (“Col. Jack’’), 17, 90, 
162, 163, 165, 170, 171, 172, 173. 

Haverly’s Mastodon Minstrels, 17, 18, 
165, 172, 175. 

Hayes, Roland, 176. 

Henry “Hi” (Hiram Patrick), 17, 170, 


173. 
Herbert, “Pot Pie,” 11. 
Hill, Gus, 175. 
Hitchcock, Raymond, 20, 174. 
Hogan, Ernest, 175. 
Holland, George, 91, 92. 
Hooley, Richard M., 90, 157, 162, 163, 
164, 172, 180. 
Hopper, De Wolf, 20. 
Horn, Eph, 17, 84, 158. 
Hoyt, Charles E., 85. 
Hyde and Behman, 179. 


Jefferson, Joseph, 15, 19. 
Johnson, Carroll, 17, 20, 163, 173. 
Johnson, J. Rosamond, 176. 
Jolson (Joelson), Al, 19, 180, 235. 
José, Richard J., 233. 

Juba, Master, 16. 


Kelly and Leon, 93, 156, 157, 163, 180, 
181. 


Kemble, 181, 182. 
Kernell, Harry, 20. 
Kersands, Billy, 175. 
Kneass, Nelson, 16, 139. 
Kunkel, George, 17. 


Lawton, Frank, 231. 
Leavitt, M. B., 17, 172. 
Leonard, Eddie, 235. 

Leon, “The Great,” 93, 156. 
Little Mac, 163. 


McIntyre and Heath, 179, 180. 

McNish, Frank E., 17, 163, 173. 

Mac, Little, 163. 

Mack, Andrew, 20. 

Mackney, E. W., 186. 

Maguire, Tom, 155, 158, 161, 163, 164, 
165. 

Manning, Billy, 162, 163. 

Matthews, Brander, 27, 166, 185. 

Mestayer, G., 17. 

Miller, Joe, 83. 

Mitchell, Charlie, 233. 

Montgomery, Dave, 20. 

Moore, George Washington (“Pony”), 
233, 234. 

Morris, Billy, 164. 

Morris, Charles, 164. 

Morris, Lon, 164. 

Morris Brothers, 164. 

Mullaly, W. S., 158. 

Murphy, (of the “Sable Harmonizers”’), 
16. 

Murphy, joseph, 19. 


Newcomb, W. W., 180. 


O’Brien, Neil, 160. 

Olcott, Chauncey, 20, 163. 

Ordway, John P. (“Ordway’s Aolians”’), 
19, 1G: 


Pastor, Tony, 84, 171. 
Pelham, Dick, 15. 
Pelham, G., 16. 

Pell, John, 164. 


246 


INDEX 


Peyton, Corse, 18. 

Pike, M. S., 92. 

Plumer (of the “Sable Harmonizers”’), 
16. 

Primrose, George, 17, 170, 171, 180, 232. 

Primrose and West, 17, 170, 179. 


Rankin, 171. 

Redmond, William Emerson (Billy 
Emerson), 164. 

Reed, Charlie, 158, 163, 233. 

Reed, Dave, 158. 

Rentz, Mme. (Female Minstrels), 172. 

Rentz-Stanley Burlesque Troupe, 173. 

Ricardo, “The Great,” 93, 94. 

Rice, Billy, 90, 162, 164. 

Rice, Thos. D. (“ Daddy”’), 11, 12, 15. 

Rice, William Henry, 92, 173. 

Richards and Pringle, 17, 175. 

Ring and Parker, 15. 

Robeson, Paul, 176. 

Rorke, W., 16. 

Russell, Jimmy, 93. 

Russell, Lillian, 159. 

Russell, May (Burlesque Co.), 173. 

Russell Brothers, 93. 

Russell’s Comedians, 181. 

Ryman, “Add,” 163, 171. 


Sable, Josephine, 233. 

Sable Brothers, 17. 

Sanderson’s Minstrels, 163. 
Sandford, 17. 

Sanford, Sam S., 159. 
Schoolcraft, Luke, 157, 180, 181. 
Schoolcraft and Coes, 180. 
Seymour, Nelse, 158. 

Sharpley, Sam, 160. 

Shepherd, Bob, 159. 

Simmons, Lew, 161, 163. 
Simmons and Slocum, 161, 171, 180. 
Sissle and Blake, 176. 

Skinner, Otis, 20. 

Slavin, Bob, 17, 163, 173. 
Slocum, E. N., 161, 171, 180. 
Sousa, John Philip, 160. 
Stanley, Burton, 93. 


Stanwood, Harry, 83. 

Stanwood, M., 16. 

Stone, Fred, 20. 

Stowe, Mrs., 166. 

Stuart, 93. 

Sullivan, John L., 233. 

Sweatnam, Willis P., 92, 160, 161, 162, 
LO sUTE 

Sweeney, Joe, 32, 163. 


Thatcher, George, 170, 171, 172, 173. 
Thompson, Denman, Ig. 

Tinney, Frank, Io. 

Trowbridge, J. T., 164. 

Twain, Mark, 166. 

Tuney, Lemuel J. (Eddie Leonard), 


235. 


Unsworth, “The Black Demosthenes,” 
158. 


Victoria, Queen, 16. 
Vogel, John W., 174. 


Wagner, “Happy” Cal, 165, 170. 
Wambold, Dave, 18, 156, 158, 162. 
Weber (Joe) and Fields (Lew), 20, 80, 


179. 
Welles, S. A., 139. 
Wells, Sam, 181. 
West, Billy, 90. 
West, Luke, 17. 
West, William H., 17, 163, 170, 180. 
White, Charles T., 157, 158. 
White, Cool, 16, 159. 
White, W., 16. 
Whitlock, Billy, 15. 
Williams, Barney, 20. 
Williams, Bert, 175. 
Williams and Walker, 175. 
Wilson, George, 17, 170, 171, 180. 
Wilson, J. P., 232. 
Wood, Fernando, 156. 
Wood, George, 17. 
Wood, Henry, 92, 156. 
Wood, Mrs. John, 185. 


Ziegfeld “ Follies,’ 235. 


247 


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BOOKS BY 
SIGMUND SPAETH 


Harry Hansen writes in the New York 
World: 


** Sigmund Spaeth has written 
a jolly book; in fact, one of the 
most cheerful books I have 
encountered in moons .. . It is 
bulging with information and 
melody, and it will stir as 
much reminiscence as does Mark 
Sullivan’s ‘Our Times.’ Besides, 
you can play it on your piano.” 


The New York Times: 

“A treasure trove. It will 
delight a large audience of kin- 
dred spirits, individually and 
collectively.”’ 


The New Yorker: 
‘An indispensable adjunct to 
social life.” 


“A sequel to that gorgeous 
tome, Read ’Em and Weep, 
complete with words, music, 
erudite glosses, sly comment, 
heart-rending pictures and 


memories . . . Try this on your 
piano.” 
—New York Herald-Tribune 


“A mighty good book.” 
—F. P. A. in the New York World 


“Song fans must have this 
new Spaeth book for their grow- 


ing libraries.” 
—Chicago News 


OG ENTLEMEN, BE SEATE 


A PARADE OF THE OLD-TIME MINSTRELS 


* THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLACKFACE MINSTREL PRODUCING CEN I 


The First Burnt-Corkers The Old-time Rialto x 
What’s in a Name? ; Minstrelsy in Philadelphia 
Minstrelsy as a Stepping Stone Minstrelsy in San Francisco 


The Great Emerson 
Minstrelsy in Brooklyn 
Minstrelsy in Chicago — 


FAMOUS TEAMS OF MINSTR 
McIntyre and Heath ‘< 
Schoolcraft and Coes moe S 
Delehanty and Hengler 
Harrigan and Hart re an 


DAN EMMETT AND “DIX: 


CHARCOAL SKETCHES 


Lew Dockstader 
Dick Jose | 
THE FIRST PART “Pony”? Moore 
The Parad George “Honey Boy” Evans 
oe Eddie Leonard nay < 


The Interlocutor - 
The End Men 
The Banjo 


Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor 


SONGS THE MINSTRELS TAUGHT US 


THE REINCARNATION OF JOKES 


THE SECOND PART . 


Stump Speakers 
The Dark Triangle 


A WORKING MODEL 


The First Part 
A Stump Speech 
Afterpiece 


SOME OF THE ROAD SHOWS 
“Not Coloured, but Born That Way’”’ 


